The Bear in the East
by HOG2017
Summary: This story will follow a NCR ranger who travels east, arriving in the Commonwealth during the events of FO4. This story will follow SovietBabushka's Resurgence:Rise of the Minutemen version of the events. I would like to express my gratitude to him for allowing me to use it, and would recommend reading his story prior to this one.
1. Chapter 1

Even on the lowest volume setting his radio always seemed to blare in his ear. A few moments prior, only a little chatter was coming through.

"Got something here."

He had been doing this job so long, even the tiniest chatter over the radio usually caused him to wake. It was annoying at times, but he credited it with saving his life more than once.

"Some movement in the trees..yeah, tango spotted."

His attention was focused now, trying to figure out who's voice it was. Every passing moment seemed an eternity.

"Got another one." A different voice muttered.

He stirred in his sleeping bag. Their outpost had not yet been supplied with mattresses. That's the price one often paid for being a Ranger in the NCR. Put yourself in harms way, see more violence, and take more abuse to live in lower conditions than ones civilian peers. He didn't mind so much.

"I've got three tangos in the brush." The first voice came back, seemingly quieter.

Marcus sat up, he slid his boots on in a hurry. He was always worried and eager to get into a fight when he was on station. This time of night could only mean one thing, tribals. There were no caravans this deep into the territory, and any wanderers would surely be resting now. Their outpost was on the edge of the NCR's influence, the edge of the known civilized world.

"Wait for them." The senior Rangers voice crackled, he must have been awaken too. Marcus was sure they had all awoken by now, all doing the same thing they drilled to do in training. The same thing they had been doing for years of war with the Legion, and now a year and some change of expeditionary actions. He strapped his brahmin leather pistol belt around his waist, and put his coat on.

"I've got more, to many to count on the southeast. Bulk of attack may be here. Wake QRF."

Marcus hit his radios transmitter, "Already up. Roger on southeast, standby for deployment."

He rushed now, securing his sequoia and his full brimmed hat. Multiple gun shots cracked in the cold night air, shattering the eerie silence.

XXXXXXXXXX

Marcus awoke, sweating. He touched his revolver, ensuring it was there for his own comfort.

His eyes wide, he laid still allowing them to adjust. The sun was not yet up but, the beginning of the mornings nautical twilight had arrived providing a little illumination. He decided to get up anyway, he knew sleep would evade him even if he drained the other half of his whiskey bottle. His nightmares and memories would only find him again.

He rolled up his small sleeping mat, securing it firmly to his ruck sack. The Red Rocket gas station he had taken refuge in for the night had began to stink from the raiders Marcus disposed of the night before. Though six years had passed since the second battle for Hoover Dam, and four since he had left the NCR's territory and headed east, the smell of fresh dead bodies always brought him back. His skills were still as sharp as when he was in his prime, only now his knees and back ached a little more.

Stepping outside, the brisk morning air brushed his face and crept through his beard to tickle his cheek. He observed the Red Rocket sign for the first time in the daylight. Raider's chains hung from the lower platform, a half decomposed body suspended gruesomely moved slowly in the wind.

He could finally start to smell the ocean, something he hadn't experienced since his childhood in California. Years earlier, rumors of a civilization on the east coast had floated around the NCR. So now here he was. As every day began for the last few years, he began walking towards the rising sun. It reminded him of Chief Hanlon. The old mans words reverberated in his head almost everyday, "That's what a Rangers life is now..looking east."

His boots clacked hard on the paved road, a convenience he allowed himself. Every instinct in his body told him to avoid the road. Those instincts were from a much more dangerous place though, the Mojave Wasteland. He was to humble to believe he was the best there was in this new land, but he was also confident enough in himself that even if he found someone or something he couldn't kill he would be able to evade it.

One thing he did know about the east was the population seemed denser. For him or any other lonely wanderer, nuisance seemed to be just after every bend. More often than not, he ran into small groups of raiders or super mutant patrols. Nothing seriously troubling though, which held true even now.

Two raiders were sitting just off the road, in a hollowed out, crumbled Victorian style building. They had not yet noticed Marcus, and were carrying on a conversation quite loudly. Marcus slowly crouched behind the shattered wooden wall of the building, listening for anything valuable.

"Did you hear about the last one we tried to pull in? The one with all the 'grenades'?"

"Ah no, I was out doing my rounds. What about him?"

"Well Becca pulled him into the front of the store, and everything seemed fine right?"

Marcus looked around, checking behind him at first, and then rested his head against the wall.

"He must have got spooked or something, because he suddenly starts throwing grenades everywhere!"

"What? What did you guys do?" The other Raider asked.

Marcus put his hand on his sequoia, slowly standing in preparation to take them by surprise.

"That's the thing! Turns out they weren't grenades at all! They were just rocks!" A small chuckle escaped the man as he told his story.

"He was making the sounds with his mouth! Pins being pulled, the whole nine yards."

Marcus stepped around the busted frame, interrupting the tale.

"THAT is odd."

"What the-"

Both raiders shot to their feet, raising what looked to be crudely made pistols. 2x4's and pipes, a piece of twisted metal from who knows what, were held like weapons and Marcus would treat them as such.

Before their pistols could be trained on Marcus, his sequoia was raised at the one closest to him. He stepped slowly to the side, trying to put one of them behind the other.

"Easy, I don't want a fight."

The raiders must have been seasoned, they wouldn't allow him to exploit them by a simple game of angles and moved with him. Less gracefully, but they kept both guns on him none the less.

"That's what they all say, what the fuck are you thinking sneaking up on us?"

Marcus remained quiet for a moment, the men seemed to look him up and down.

"I've seen some crazy get ups, but you look like some kind of cowboy." The men laughed at Marcus. This was something he definitely wasn't used to. In the Mojave, everyone knew the Rangers and identified their uniforms. Not once had he ever seen a Ranger mocked for their clothes.

"I'll give you this chance." Marcus said low and slow, still 'dancing' around them and taking mental notes of everything else in the room. His arm almost fully extended and his body bladed to his left side. "Give me your ammo, half your rations of food and water, and I'll let you go."

The raider closest to him, the one who was telling the story, turned around to look at his companion and laugh. This was a mistake, Marcus was done wasting his time. Two shots rang out from the revolver, one into the first raiders temple. The second, precisely placed in the others hands tightly grasping his pistol grip. The bullet shattered his hands and fingers.

No sounds came from the first man as his dead body collapsed, the second man however was a screamer Marcus discovered as he holstered his pistol.

The raider had momentarily stopped screaming, after falling to his knees. 'This is not a true warrior.' Marcus thought. He took a knee, unsheathing his knife and putting it to the raiders throat. All quiet now, like a child who had been whipped and didn't want to get hit again.

"The safe, where's the key?"

The raider just looked at him and shook his head, sweating profusely now and tears in his eyes. Marcus didn't make a noise, he pulled a small piece of cloth from his left pocket. Marcus wrapped it around the mans bloody nubs, where his fingers used to be.

"Hold it there, it'll slow the bleeding until you get to a doctor."

His face was twisted with pain and confusion, a man who obviously wasn't used to mercy.

"Where's the key?" He reiterated.

The raider nodded slowly, looking at his bloody hands. Then with his tightly wrapped hands motioned to a cooler beside his lawn chair, lying almost hidden amongst the rubble.

Marcus stood, turning his back to the raider, who then stood turning his back as well to leave. As Marcus rummaged through the cooler, he turned to see him stumbling away. Marcus picked up the pipe pistol from the dead raider, quickly checked it over and with a quick sight picture, killed the man where he stood. One shot, back of the head. Marcus examined the pistol again, he removed the magazine.

He unloaded the .32 ammunition and dropped them in the front pouch of his backpack. He spent the next ten minutes scrounging through their supplies, taking everything useful. He stepped back into the open now, checking his surroundings once more before embarking on his journey once more.

A loud buzzing hum reverberated in the stillness. His head spun around, to face southwest. He had never seen anything like it. An airship of some sort. He had only seen pictures of such things once, after the Boomers agreed to lend the NCR a hand. The murals had showed these things, but it seems the painting had come to life. A speaker system activated.

"People of the commonwealth."

Vertibirds now came into sight. They were the zeppelins escorts it seemed, launching off like birds breaking from a flock. His immediate thoughts went to the Enclave, or perhaps a Brotherhood mobile air base. A staging platform for expeditionary operations. He watched in awe.

"Do not interfere, our intentions are peaceful. We are the Brotherhood of Steel."

Marcus touched his pistol, finding comfort as memories of the Brotherhood came into his mind, haunting him as he was sure they haunted every other Ranger who went on the Hidden Valleys Bunker raid.

The sun was still in his face, it seemed the Brotherhoods destination was the same as his. Shaking himself loose from his memories, he walked as freely as ever towards the next chapter in his life. Boston.


	2. Chapter 2

Marcus peered through his binoculars, lying perfectly still amongst the scrub the commonwealth offered. A small settlement was only a few terrain features away, a bustling little farm community. Armed guards stood at the gates, with a flag he didn't recognize flying high and proud in the sunshine. Blue with a rifle and lightning bolt, flanked by what he assumed were stars. Although, he couldn't quite tell at this distance.

He glanced at the sky, and then momentarily rested his head upon his hat. The binoculars now sat in the dirt, his hand drifting. As he closed his eyes, his fingers simultaneously scraped the dirt, pulling a small pile into his hands. He held it for a moment, then turned his hand to the side and watched it slowly fall back to its home.

With that, he sighed and scooted back down the small berm he had taken cover behind, ignoring his dizziness from lack of nourishment. Securing his pack, hat, and touching his pistol he set towards the settlement.

The guards showed no aggression as he approached.

'Maybe it's more peaceful here than I thought.'

Marcus expected them to give him a halt order, or at least a wary acknowledgment, however neither came. Only, "Good afternoon.", from the one on the right. Presumably the more senior man, if stripes were any indicator.

'Sunshine Tidings Co-Op' the sign plainly stated, nailed to an elevated guard tower, just behind the fortified wooden wall surrounding the town. Quite a town it was. A general store, clothing, arms, food and everything a real community, an economic power, should have. He must have stuck out amongst the citizens, dirty, ragged and unkempt. A true wastelander.

He thought back to his last mission briefing. The words were true now, as ever. "Don't wear your ranger armor. You'll stick out like a sore thumb amongst those savages.", he had been told, "You want to earn their trust, not scare them." He was glad he didn't bring it, for wearing it now would have put a big look-at-me signal on him. The boots, khakis, button-up, and full brimmed hat seemed ridiculous enough to these people, comparatively speaking. Not everyone looked exemplary, but generally they were clean. Some of them were even healthy, with full faces.

He approached the general stores counter first, laying out a multitude of ammunition types, a few odds and ends from his travels, and articles of clothing that were not completely ruined when he found them.

"Howdy, how much will this get me?" Marcus inquired.

The store clerk sorted through the ammunition momentarily, then shifted through the clothing, and finally the trinkets were examined.

"I think a fair price would be..85 caps." He looked at Marcus in the eyes through his glasses. Marcus only smiled in amusement.

"110 and we'll call'er good."

Now it was the clerks amusement that gave way.

"I'll go as high as 90, and that's that."

Marcus looked about the stores shelves and finely constructed glass showcase. Cigars neatly set next to a dusty carton of cigarettes caught his eye. They looked, surprisingly, as if they weren't stale.

"Those cigars fresh?" He asked.

The owner turned, and nodded.

"Ah, yes sir they are. Tobaccos from Greentop Nursery, rolled in Tenpines Bluff."

"Is that local?" He inquired.

"You're not from around here are you?"

"No sir, been traveling quite some time."

"Yes it's local, couple hours travel on foot if you know where you're going."

"Tell you what," Marcus licked his dry lips, "you give me 75 caps, three of those cigars, a bottle of purified water, and some information and we'll settle this deal."

The clerk froze where he stood as the word 'information' left the strangers lips.

"You've got a dangerous look about you..hope you ain't here for me?"

"Oh no, nothing like that." Marcus responded hastily. "I just had some general questions, friendly conversation more like."

A sigh of relief came from the clerk, adjusting his glasses. "Well of..of course in that case I have the time. Not to many people beating down the door, so to speak."

The proprietor exchanged the goods, and while Marcus was admiring the cigars and packing them away safely in his shirt pocket the man asked, "So, what kind of information are you looking for?"

"Who's flag is that outside?"

"You really aren't from around here are you?"

"Who's getting information here, you or me?" Marcus smiled, even though his voice was level and cold.

"Right, well..it's the flag of the Minutemen."

"Minutemen?"

"Yes, protectorate of the commonwealth. The people fighting for the people. They've come a long way ever since General Garvey and Colonel Thiel came into the picture..seems they've all but reclaimed the Commonwealth. A few pockets of super mutants here, couple raiders there, gunners remain the biggest issue..but there is still the case of the airship that arrived early this morning. Brotherhood of Steel, I've heard tales of them down in the capital wasteland. Have you ever heard of the Brotherhood?"

A short memory of Marcus kicking a young scribe in the chest, pulling his redwood revolver and painting the wall with his brains entered his mind, clear as day.

"No."

"Ah, in any case I'm not sure how they'll get along with the Minutemen. Only time will tell, but I'm confident Colonel Thiel can handle any problems that come our way. Even the Institute, if you believe in them."

"Institute?"

"Boogey man of the commonwealth, there's some old newspapers over there if you'd like to read about them."

Marcus gave a glance in the direction the man motioned towards, and looked immediately back.

"Those guard outside then, Minutemen?"

"Yes sir."

"Hmm..one more question." Marcus stroked his beard. "What's best to eat around here?"

The clerk laughed.

XXXXXXXX

After getting some proper food, a haircut, and a much needed bath, Marcus found reasonably priced lodging. The bed was comfortable, and clean(ish). Things were much better in the commonwealth than the Mojave in his opinion. Perhaps it was the change of scenery, or maybe he just hadn't been there in so long it seemed worse than it was.

Vegas, being the crown achievement in the Mojave, thriving after the second battle of Hoover Dam still had its major downfalls. The NCR was now in possession of everything west of Vegas, and a little farther east. Stabilization and strength, not only as a military power, but the economy and peace had never been better.

The beds on the strip were clean, but the outlying cities and towns were still not this decent. As great as things had been since the downfall of the Legion, there were still major discrepancies. Still riddled with junkies, whores, and cheats, that all stank of unwashed fester. The stench of civil unrest still filled the air in certain parts of the Mojave. The 'peace' was poorly stitched together, at best. Held together only by money, and a lot of the NCR's young men and women in uniform.

Here though, things seemed genuine. Peace seemed palpable, if a small settlement with all of this only required a small garrison of maybe fifteen men? It also held a key ingredient that nowhere else held. Happiness. The only time he remembered it in earnest was with his wife and young daughter, on their homestead back west. That, however, was years ago and now only a memory.

He scribbled his thoughts down in a small leather bound notebook he kept in his bag, buried deep. He then abandoned his philosophies as quick as they began. In the morning, it was time to make a move.

After a good nights rest, one well deserved, he walked briskly to one of the Minutemen on post.

"Good afternoon sir, may I help you?" The young soldier asked.

"I want to enlist." Marcus said flatly.

"Very well sir, nearest recruiting officer is Oberland Station."

"And where's that?"

"Do you have a map, sir?"

"I do not."

The soldier nodded, and proceeded to give brief directions. His clean shaven face gave the impression of a disciplined soldier. Marcus took notice of his fine firearm. M4 service rifle, and a 9mm sidearm, both clean and well lubricated. His camouflage utilities were not patched and sowed together. They were issued, they were uniform and neat. Marcus was again, impressed upon further examination of the Minutemen. Another viable reason he could add as to why he wanted to enlist.

"Did you get that sir?"

"Yeah, I got it. Thank you son." Marcus realized not everyone liked to be called 'son', but he had made it to the age he didn't care. It was the way he spoke and if anyone cared that much, they didn't have to speak to him the way he figured it.

"Anytime sir, thank you. It shouldn't take you to long to get there. The officer on duty should be Lieutenant Brander. He'll sort you out."

"Thanks again." Marcus nodded, and with that, he set out for Oberland Station.


	3. Chapter 3

In the end, boot camp wasn't terrible. It was boot camp, a place people go to be basically trained in the art and science of soldiering. A place for people who had never been in a military. Marcus was seasoned though, and it showed.

During the first quarter, he dominated the physical preparations and assessments. He was one of a few that could remain in the front while running laps around the Castle with all of their gear. He was one of a few who didn't let the yelling of the Drill Sergeants break his concentration, remaining calm and focused throughout all of the tests. Years of war back west had engrained a calmness in him.

During the latter portions of boot camp, "Recruit Marcus André showed exceptional leadership during the urban and green side offense and defense phases, and during civilian populace patrolling", written by Ronnie Shaw the chief instructor at bootcamp. His weapons handling, and hand to hand was exceptional. The only thing he didn't excel in were the written exams. He wasn't taught until later in life how to read and write, after joining the Rangers for writing reports, so his literary abilities were limited. Fortunately he passed with just below average marks, thanks to the rest of his skills though he was placed above his peers. In the end, Marcus was promoted to Sergeant out of boot camp. He would be responsible for a squad at his first station, which he requested be a combat unit.

The Minutemen were still growing, people from all over the Commonwealth and surrounding areas were coming to enlist. Marcus found out in boot camp that the nemesis for now was the Gunners. He heard that they had blown up a central trading area in Boston, Bunker Hill, while trying to kill Col. Thiel. And relations with the Brotherhood at this point were shaky at best. Negotiations had been going off and on for quite sometime. Marcus would have his wish, as most of his peers who enlisted. Upon graduation, he received his orders. First assignment-COP(Combat Outpost) Zimonja. Officer to report to, Captain Marion, Company Commander.

XXXXXXXX

It was his first patrol in the Minutemen, not his first one ever though, of course. From his time with the Rangers, he knew what he needed to bring and what he could afford to leave behind. He watched as some of the younger soldiers, some his peers from boot camp, struggle with their load. Some thought just because they carried it all in boot, they had to carry it out here. It was different carrying it here when you weren't given mandatory breaks to avoid injury. Marcus found it humorous, they would learn just as he did. His platoon commander, Lt. Katzer, had been posted here for three months. In the Minutemen, one would be promoted to officer based off merit. Even so, he was the newest Lieutenant at the COP. Marcus wasn't his biggest fan. Until now he had engaged raiders, at COP Zimonja though, the concern was Gunners.

Until recently the Minutemen didn't have enough forces for a major offensive, but with the influx of recruits General Garvey and Colonel Thiel decided it was time. A contact patrol was Sgt. Andrés' mission, and he was enthusiastic to carry it out.

"Sir, we've got the Gunner compound in sight." One of the junior soldiers told the Lt., who then passed the 'halt' and 'get down' hand and arm signals.

Marcus took a knee, dropping his ruck sack and pulling out his map, just as his radio came to life.

"Squad leaders on me." The Lt. passed.

"What's the plan sir?" The first squad leader, Sgt. Sputtle asked.

"I️ want two from the marksman attachments to do a recon of the western side, ID an infiltration point and from there we will coordinate with higher."

All the squad leaders and the Platoon Sergeant, who was Marcus as well as second squad leader, rogered up. They then went to pass word to their men. Marcus set his men in a 360, and after he went forward to observe the two man recon.

'Ridiculous.' He thought to himself. 'These men are only basically trained, they know nothing about recon.' His specialties while in the Rangers just so happened to be reconnaissance and information gathering, later turned into intelligence to be disseminated amongst the Rangers. Needless to say, his appreciation for reconnaissance and all associated acts was great.

A loud explosion rocked the still air. Marcus peered through his binoculars. One of the men had stepped on a mine, though alive, Marcus was sure he had lost at least a leg.

"Fuuuck.." The Lt. whispered. Marcus shot him a quick glance before looking back through his binoculars. The injured soldier screamed loudly, his partner ran to aid him. Once he grabbed him by his vest and started to drag him back, little splashes of dirt appeared all around him.

Marcus immediately knew what these splashes were. 'They're being shot at..'

He only made it a few yards before one finally struck home, sending the aiding soldier to his knees. He struggled to stand back up, but couldn't. Probably a shot through the leg or lower back. The Lt. started to stand, assumingely to lead a rescue. Marcus quickly grabbed him by the collar and jerked him back into the dirt.

"What're you doing?" Marcus asked calmly.

"I'm going to save my men." He started to stand, and again Marcus jerked him back into the dirt.

"No you're not, sir. They'll shoot you on sight, then we won't have a platoon commander, and another body to grab. It's a mistake for you to go."

The officer looked appalled, and confused.

"Sergeant André, I'm leading a group of men to recover our wounded."

"Lt. Katzer," Marcus let out a brief chuckle, "you're not doing that..you're going to stay here, I'll take my squad, set in a position so we can suppress them and then another squad can go as recovery."

The Lieutenant was now clearly furious, breaking free of Marcus's grasp and shooting to his feet. Marcus realized that Lt. Katzer was one of the, 'I'm in charge and you'll do what I say because I said so' types.

"I️ will charge you with insubordination Sergeant!" Marcus remained silent, coldly staring through the man. The Lt. turned to the men immediately behind him.

"You four, with me! We're getting our boys." The four soldiers stood without question, and as they left the safety of their perimeter, Marcus crawled quickly to his squad.

"Get up, we have to move. We're going to the right flank, taking cover behind that bus. Now..that group of men," he pointed at the Lt. as they jogged the 500 meters to their wounded, "they're going to start getting shot at, and when they do, we're going to provide as much covering fire for them as possible. Understood?"

A unanimous 'Yes Sergeant.' Came from his men's hushed voices. He oriented himself back towards the gunner stronghold, and threw his arm forward to signal them to go. He couldn't help but notice the pain in his lower back and knees from crouching so long.

They ran quickly, using as much cover and concealment as possible, but in the end they knew they would be seen. Within fifty yards of the recovery team reaching the wounded, they began to take light effective fire. Marcus figured probably two, maybe three Gunners taking well aimed shots from the bridge, the dominating feature on the landscape. As long as they had men on that bridge, they would have the high ground. You didn't have to be a tactical genius to know that wasn't good.

Marcus and his squad arrived at their designated position, the wall surrounding the Gunners compound. One of the recovery team had already gone down, making a bad situation worse. Marcus turkey peaked around the bus, and with his binoculars quickly identified the shooters. His assumption earlier was correct, only two for now.

"Get ready, suppressing fire, follow my rounds!"

Marcus popped around the corner, and fired a short burst at the gunners. The rounds bounced around them, causing them to duck and cease firing. The squad, disciplined and eager, immediately started suppressing their targets. If the Gunners didn't know his squad was there, they did now as a line of ten men fired their service rifles.

Only one more man had been hit on the recovery team, totaling four wounded. Marcus was about to call for the other squads on the radio, but his fellow squad leaders had been following behind him and his squad.

"I've got a team going out to assist in recovery, they're bringing the wounded here." Third squad leader, Corporal Whiting announced.

Before he could speak, a loud continuous burst of fire impacted the bus they were using for cover.

"Machine gun!" One of the soldiers on the line yelled. Marcus took a knee, giving him better cover.

"Pick up the rates of fire! GET ME A DM!"

A designated marksman came running with his sniper rifle, arriving around the same time as the wounded and the Lt. were rejoining the platoon. The fire fight drowned out everything else, as it always had for Marcus. He was beginning to get tunnel vision, his primary focus to kill everyone in that compound.

"Son, I need you to kill that machine gunner." Marcus, shouting over the gun fire and patting the young mans shoulder.

"Yes Sergeant!" The DM replied.

"Sergeant André, what are you doing?" The Lt. bellowed.

"I'm taking the offense, sir."

"Last I checked this was my platoon, we're pulling out." His response came clear, and loud, over the gun fire.

"Sir, if we run now we'll take more casualties and accomplish nothing, these gunners will run us all over the territory and we'll take a loss. You need to lead these men." Marcus only glanced at the Lt. while speaking to him, his attention truly rested on his map.

"I am leading them, back to friendly lines Sergeant!"

Now, Marcus looked at his officer, and motioned for him to come closer with his index finger. Surprisingly, the man took a knee next to Marcus. The machine gun fire was still going in heavy bursts, and Marcus expected the Gunners were organizing for an attack. Time was precious, and it was running out.

"Sir, you need to pull it together. As you're senior enlisted, I strongly advise you take the offensive here. Our job, is to kill these scum bags. We outnumber them, if we really need to we could call for reinforcements. We may be out of artillery range, but there are multiple points of entry, and as soon as we lower that crane, we can take the bridge. Sir, this is the critical moment in battle that we turn the tides."

The officer looked at him, tears forming in his eyes.

"I'm tired of getting men hurt André."

'You've got to be kidding me..' Marcus pursed his lips, clearly annoyed with his leadership. Marcus seriously doubted the officer truly heard anything he said.

"Sir, go sit over there with the wounded. The men can't see you like this." Marcus pointed to the casualties, while looking back at his map. With a glance and lowered head the officer stood, moping towards the casualties.

Marcus looked back at the bridge, the machine gun fire was still going strong. His men, had all but ceased their suppressive fire. Before he could ask for an update, he heard a body collapse behind him. The Lt. had taken a round in the head. Marcus stared at him for a moment before he let out an audible sigh.

'Great.'

Marcus did what he wished the young officer would've done, and took charge of the platoon. Under his leadership, they crushed the Gunners within two hours, only taking five more casualties, a fairly low casualty rate for a green unit.

After the fight was over, Marcus ordered the men to sift through and find any useful information or gear. Namely, medical supplies to treat the wounded as best as possible.

XXXXXXXX

"Sergeant André, we've got the dead collected, and we've got some intel. There's a small outpost of gunners nearby, looks like they broke off a couple days ago to find a new place to fortify." The new acting Platoon Sergeant informed Marcus.

"Did a distress call go out?" He asked while reading through every single bit of information on the terminal he found inside a shack on top of the bridge.

"Couldn't say." Sergeant Sputtle shrugged.

"Well send one out, ask for backup...send third squad back with the casualties, have second squad collect the machine guns the Gunners had, take their clothes, and dress in them. Set up where they'll have fire down the long axis of the gunners reinforcement patrol..first squad line the bridge in cover, and then we'll wait..we'll send a clear message to them. Also, get on the radio and tell higher what's going on."

"Roger that Sergeant.."

XXXXXXXX

Hours later, as the sun was setting, the Gunners patrol was approaching from the east. The sun was in their eyes, the Minutemen dressed in the gunners uniforms laid still except for one man, who stood and waved the Gunners forward. Marcus had the men lay the dead Gunners around the compound to appear as if they were Minutemen corpses.

Marcus sat inside the shack which stored the cranes control terminal. He watched in silence, they were now within 200 meters. The entire patrol was in view. He counted twelve men, moving quicker now that they believed they were close to friendly lines. Marcus lit his cigar, inhaling slowly.

"FIRE!" Sergeant Sputtle yelled. Immediately, three machine guns opened up, the Minutemen on the bridge popped over and began flanking fire. The Gunners were trapped in the kill zone, with no where to go. The Minutemen caught them by surprise, but the surprise only lasted a moment for the confused Gunners. All their bodies fell limp, the gun fire only lasted ten to fifteen seconds.

Marcus exhaled, finally getting to enjoy the cigars he had purchased at Sunshine Tidings.

He hit the transmit button on his radio. "Tell the men to take anything useful, if we can't carry it, burn it or break it." Marcus looked at the lit end of his cigar in admiration.

"What about the prisoner?" Sergeant Sputtle asked over the radio, referring to the man they had captured earlier. After the Gunner Commander was killed, he and a couple others tried to escape. Unfortunately for them, they ran into third squad.

"He's coming back with us, brother. I've got some questions for him." Marcus replied.

 **AN: Alright, so this chapter bounced around a little bit and moved at a quicker pace than the others. I didn't want to spend a lot of time on bootcamp because it would have just consisted of Marcus succeeding at tasks most others couldn't. I also wanted to show his mindset and how he approaches squad/platoon size tactics. As always, leave a review. Good or bad, both are welcome. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

_"_ _Now this is why I joined the Rangers." Marcus said quietly to his decade old friend and mentor, Veteran Ranger Krieger. The four man team was laying quietly in a sniper hide overlooking Cottonwood Cove. They didn't need to be quiet, because of how far away they were, but proper hide etiquette always ruled. It was day three of their observation, and Marcus could smell himself and his team mates. Hide etiquette also dictated that no one left to use the bathroom, so empty water bottles were used._

 _All the Rangers had stripped their patrol and riot armor off during the days, only wearing it at night to stay warm. It was night time now, and the NCR was in position to strike Cottonwood Cove. Two platoons of troopers staged over the ridge line, First Recon on the southern ridge to cover approach and withdraw, and give early warning to the troopers of approaching legionnaires. Marcus and his team on the western ridge to provide; pattern of life, control indirect fire, and information on the HVT's, two legion commanders and the slaves. They were just waiting on the radio call._

 _"_ _Räuber 1, Räuber 1, this is COC, initiate series Beth."_

 _The Ranger on the far left of their line, Jacobson, answered the radio call while still looking through his spotting scope._

 _"_ _COC, COC, this Räuber 1, Lima Charlie on last, initiating series Beth, break. Steel Rain, this is Räuber 1, do you copy?"_

 _While he was handling the IDF, Marcus double checked his mapwork to ensure no IDF would endanger the slaves. After the main body had gotten as close as they could without being harmed by IDF, Marcus's team would cease the fires and advance on foot to free them. The main target for the artillery would be the Legions barracks._

 _"_ _Alright boys, get ready. As soon as the rounds impact, start dropping Legionnaires." Krieger, the team leader stated through his helmet. Marcus manipulated the bolt of his weapon, sending a bullet into the chamber, eyes still watching his first victim intently through his scope. The rest of the Rangers readied their rifles as well._

 _"_ _Roger, initiate series Beth. Additional target Alpha Echo 4755 3927, one round every one five seconds, how copy?"_

 _The read back was flawless, within seconds they heard the first round fired. With a flash of light and a thundering boom following shortly after, everyone knew the first round had hit its mark._

 _"_ _Steel Rain, good effects on first target."_

 _Respectively, Rangers André, Krieger, and Maxwell all began prosecuting targets that were foolish enough to leave cover. They were 1500 meters away, well within the max effective of their rifles. Good thing about an artillery barrage, no one really knew where all the other gunfire was coming from._

 _"_ _Two at the pen." Krieger, the veteran Ranger announced, telling Marcus to kill one without actually saying it._

 _"_ _Left tango, mark." Marcus replied._

 _"_ _T of two, four, three, t..". Krieger's voice was interrupted by the twin .50's firing. Both targets fell to the ground, and more emerged from the buildings like ants crawling from the mound._

 _"_ _Main bodies 300 out!" Jacobson yelled over all the noise._

 _"_ _Roger!" The others responded almost simultaneously._

 _The guns started firing in rapid succession now, 300 meters wasn't a long way to travel, and they wanted to put as many targets down before they had to break into the slave pen, disarm the collars, and get them out in the middle of a fire fight._

 _"_ _Fifty meters! I'm calling cease!"_

 _The Rangers all removed the magazines, and then took the bolts out of their rifles, rendering them useless to anyone who came by before they got back._

 _"_ _Steel Rain cease fire, cease fire! Series Beth complete, BDA will follow completion of mission."_

 _The radio chattered back, but Jacobson was already packing the radio into his ruck, and preparing his rifle._

 _"_ _We finish this, and it's onto the Fort boys!" Maxwell shouted enthusiastically, he was always a little foolhardy and optimistic for Marcus's taste. The men of Räuber 1 charged down the hill, as fast as they could without falling. Marcus hated this part, getting all sweaty during the fight and then freezing for hours after trying to dry off._

 _"_ _Paw 2, Paw 2, this is Räuber 1, approaching phase line red, watch those fires!" Jacobson yelled over the radio, he would only assume they heard him as he strapped the hand set piece back on his patrol armor, and didn't bother listening to the response._

 _"_ _Left side! Left side!" Maxwell was running point, gliding on as he sent controlled pairs of 5.56 into the six opposing Legion soldiers. The entire team started pumping rounds at them now, Maxwell turned his attention back to the front._

 _"_ _Spear!" Maxwell dodged left, unfortunately the spear caught Jacobson, the third man in formation, in the leg. He immediately dropped and rolled, once he recovered he began shooting the Legionnaire that impaled him with Maxwell who did not die easily._

 _"_ _My legs fucked.. take the radio, I'll watch the rear!" Jacobson yelled. As they were only a few meters from the cage, Marcus grabbed the radio off his back, dropping him an extra ten rounds for his carbine._

 _"_ _We'll be back for you brother, take care." He muttered as he rushed to rejoin the still moving team. Jacobson had already applied his tourniquet, and once he removed the spear he would sight in and continue his new primary goal, kill as many Legionnaires as possible._

 _"_ _Objective in sight, show me your hands! Show me your hands!" Maxwell yelled at the slaves, whom all held their hands up._

 _"_ _They're good, now line the fence on the right side!" Krieger ordered._

 _Maxwell set his carbines barrel against the lock, blowing it off. Marcus took a knee outside the fence, taking notice of the higher rates of gunfire on the southern side of the Cove, his team mates did as well as they started deactivating the slaves explosive collars._

 _"_ _COC, Objective Bravo complete, we are currently at Alpha Echo 4758 4298 , looking to exfil now and move to extract point, how copy?"_

 _"_ _Solid copy Räuber 1, standby for retasking."_

 _"_ _Fuck," Marcus whispered to himself before hitting the transmit button, "Roger, standing by COC."_

 _"_ _Paw 1 and 2 are experiencing heavy resistance on the south side, we need you to find an advantageous position and provide support by fire. How copy?"_

 _"_ _COC, we have one W.I.A. and thirteen for Objective Bravo, with one long gun in our possession, we need to move."_

 _"_ _Negative 1, set up that SBF. COC out."_

 _Marcus sighed as he turned to see his team leader approach, the slaves following close behind._

 _"_ _What's word?"_

 _"_ _HQ wants and SBF from our position."_

 _"_ _Mm..okay, give me that long gun, I'm gonna get it going off the fence."_

 _"_ _Roger that." Marcus relinquished his DMR to Krieger, he and Maxwell took a security posture on the outside of the fence with the slaves lying in the dirt. For the next few minutes all they heard was the long gun going off. Krieger then came out of the pen, he must have burned through the ammo quickly on purpose._

 _"_ _I'm out, radio HQ."_

 _"_ _COC, this is Räuber 1. We are no longer able to provide SBF, we are moving to extract."_

 _"_ _Negative 1, we need you to control IDF to cover main bodies withdrawal."_

 _Krieger overheard the transmission, and extended his arm to change out guns again, and to take the radio hand set._

 _"_ _Roger COC, this is Räuber 1 Actual, I'll be controlling those fires."_

 _Marcus was confused, but he knew not to question his team leaders plan. He took the radio pack off, passing it to Krieger._

 _"_ _Let's get on top of that building, give me a hand getting up there Marcus." This was one of the only times he'd heard his superior, Veteran Ranger Krieger, call him by his first name during combat. He had only done it when things really hit the fan._

 _Marcus complied though, hoisting Krieger onto his shoulders and allowing him to climb atop the roof. He turned to grab his hand and get pulled up alongside him, but Kriegers' sequoia was the only thing that Marcus's hand found. The weapon Krieger had worked so hard and dedicated his life to earning, the one he said would have to pried from his cold dead fingers, had been given freely to Marcus._

 _"_ _I want you to take the slaves, Maxwell, and Jacobson to the extract point. I'll see you soon Marcus." Krieger didn't stay at the edge for a rebuttal._

 _He wasn't going to question him, that only invited more friction during the fire fight, which no one needed. "Maxwell! Let's grab Jacobson and get to the extract!" Marcus hollered from the far side of the pen as he trotted towards him._

 _"_ _Where's actual?"_

 _"_ _He's on our tail, let's move." Cold and flat, as always._

 _Maxwell nodded, ordering the freed slaves up, and to follow him. Within moments they were heading back up the ridge, only this time with a bunch of half starved slaves, and an injured Ranger._

 _Marcus told himself repeatedly not to look back, don't look back, never look back. He did so anyway, Krieger was his mentor, his friend, he was there when his daughter was born, he had to look back._

 _As he did, he seen the hordes of Legionnaires, seemingly have came from nowhere, pushing both platoons back up the ridge, portions of them turning back to inspect their HQ buildings. Marcus refocused on the task at hand, they were close to the linkup point now. A voice shouted from up ahead, "Wheres your CRIMSON!?"_

 _Crimson was the challenge, Maxwell subsequently sent the pass._

 _"_ _We left them BLEEDING!"_

 _Troopers crawled out from behind scattered rocks, they looked dirty, sweaty, and bloody._

 _"_ _I thought you guys were reserve?" Marcus asked._

 _"_ _Yeah, we got called in, I guess they were hiding some additional forces near the shore. We took a whipping, but we got out of there and you got our Objective so Arty can hammer em' all to hell now."_

 _"_ _Right, we've got thirteen pe.."_

 _"_ _Who's flare is that?" The trooper interrupted._

 _Marcus turned to see a flare going up where Krieger was, the whole Cove lit up with gun fire focusing in on his position. Each small burst of light moved closer with each flash. Marcus overheard the troopers radio speak up, Kriegers' voice breaking through the static and gunfire._

 _"_ _Steel Rain..Räuber Actual, Fire for effect on grid Alpha Echo..4758 4298."_

 _"_ _Räuber Actual, that's your position."_

 _"_ _That's correct, I say again..fire for...effect grid Alpha Echo 4758 4298."_

 _"_ _Roger, fire for effect AE 4758 4298, buckle up J."_

 _The Rangers all had a close relationship with the troopers in Artillery, they had bailed them out more than once, and most of them knew Jason Krieger by name._

 _Marcus watched, sullenly, as artillery rained down on his friends position. He touched the sequoia, finding a small bit of comfort in his friends gift and sacrifice. Marcus knew it would serve him well, and he'd kill plenty of Legionnaires with it._

 _"_ _Sir, we need to extract these people." One of the troopers said from behind Marcus. Without turning around Ranger André replied._

 _"_ _Yeah, they belong to you now...hey!", Facing the soldier now, "Take care of Jacobson, too! Tell the doc I need him walking without a limp, trooper!"_

 _"_ _Roger that sir." The trooper left Marcus's presence, corralling the freed citizens into their long patrol back to Nelson where they would receive food and medical attention. Marcus just stood there, turning to watch Cottonwood Cove go up in flames, as it should in his opinion._

 _In less than an hour, Marcus had lost over ten years of friendship and comradery, a good friend who had always taken care of him and watched his back. Over what? Jason didn't have to stay there. And Marcus would never know why it happened just the way it did. Maybe he was wounded already? Maybe he thought he couldn't get away without being captured. Or maybe he thought it would be the solution to alleviating the troopers getting pressured only a few hundred meters away. Either way, in less than an hour, Marcus also had a new understanding of selfless sacrifice, dedication to duty, his friends love for the rest of the NCR, and his friends hate for Legion. His new fuel for this long war, hate._

 **AN: Alright, so I rewrote this several times trying to figure wording and direction, and in the end I just decided to put it out there. Flashback chapter to his time west and explaining our protagonist possessing the weapon of the veteran Rangers. Also used this as kind of a filler because I'm working on the main stories progression and I would like to get it just right. As always, leave a review good or bad. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

Marcus broke free of his memories as the patrol re-entered friendly lines. The sentries merely waving the grungy dirty warriors back into camp as they approached. Marcus couldn't tell if a challenge and pass was exchanged, and he didn't particularly care. They had already established radio communication and gotten verification for reentry from the Captain himself.

"Sergeant André, welcome back." Captain Marion extended his hand.

Marcus saluted him, and in a slightly awkward exchange, Captain Marion saluted back before Marcus would extend his hand to shake the Captains.

"Thank you, sir."

"You did damn fine work out there soldier."

"I did what anyone would have done sir."

"No, no you did not. We caught wind of that stronghold weeks ago and I've been thinking of how to crack it ever since."

This was news to Marcus.

"I decided to send Katzer out and reconnoiter the area before sending in a combat force, you know the rest."

Marcus was told it was a contact patrol, not a recon patrol. There were questions he had now that only a dead man could answer.

"Well sir, we managed to pull through. It could've been worse."

"Mmm, shame what happened to Katzer."

"That's war sir, I'm sure you're well aware."

The Captain cocked a half smile at Marcus, and nodded.

"He was a good Officer, nervous sometimes and second guessed himself a lot but he was good none the less..and yes, I am well aware, Lieutenant."

Marcus was not expecting this, sure the thought occurred to him in the back of his head, and it was his ultimate goal to become an officer, but he didn't expect it to actually happen so soon. If anything he expected them to pull in another officer from somewhere else in the Minutemen's ranks, and he would be promoted to a more senior enlisted grade.

"An officer, sir? I've been here less than a week."

"Exactly, you've been here less than a week and done what we were dreading for a month. I'm filing the paper work tonight for a proper promotion ceremony, but a field promotion will serve just as well until then. Good work, I'll expect a debrief from you within twenty-four hours."

The Captain turned to leave, as he did Marcus spoke up.

"Uh, sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Is there any openings in an intelligence field?"

"Didn't you request a combat post André?"

"I did sir, but today was..well it was a shit show, sir. And I think the regular forces could do with better intel..and maybe my back just isn't quite cut out for this anymore." Marcus tried to force a chuckle, but it sounded more like a cough.

The Captain nodded, and looked to the dark sky for a moment, stuck in his own head, pondering over the request.

"You know it's not up to me, right André?"

"I'm aware sir, I'm just asking you to ask, and go to bat for me."

Marion grinned, narrowing his eyes.

"I'll see what I can do, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir." Marcus snapped a salute, Captain Marion saluted back immediately and finally, walked away.

Marcus exhaled, turning back to his platoons staging area. No barracks had been built yet, rumor was no one actually knew if this was going to be a permanent outpost, so the dirt and portable mats had to suffice. His rifle and helmet weighed heavy in his hands as he walked back to his gear, which he would now have to move to the front of their formation indicating he was the OIC(Officer In Charge).

It was a short walk, maybe 100 meters to the hillside from HQ, but Marcus took his time, mostly thinking back to his days with the Rangers. Thoughts of his wife and daughter also drifted in and out of his mind, but he was quickly snapped back to the present.

"Sergeant André." Sergeant Sputtle called his name.

"It's..Lieutenant André now, Sergeant." Marcus dragged out his words, to sound a little more nonchalant about it.

"Oh, I..uh..sir." Sputtle saluted, Marcus returned the salute.

"What's up Sputtle?"

"Sir, is there anything you need from me?"

"Yeah, actually. I need you to get an accurate ammo count, and request a combat load-out from HQ. Refill water, chow, and medical supplies. And have the soldiers clean their gear, after that, get some sleep. You've earned it."

"What of you, sir?"

"You have the prisoner waiting on me?"

"Yes sir, he's where you asked me to put him, how you wanted him, and with everything you asked me to put there."

"I'm gonna pay our friend a visit then, if anyone needs me, you know where I'll be."

Sputtle saluted, and returned to the platoon.

XXXXXXXX

Just outside of the COP was a small abandoned shack, sometimes used as a supplementary position. Tonight however, and perhaps tomorrow, it would be used for something much different.

The Gunner sat quietly, blindfolded and gagged, working his wrists back and forth worryingly. He was disciplined, Marcus observed, being as silent as the Gunner as he crept and watched sweat run down the young mans forehead. Unfortunately, he was going to sweat a lot more if he didn't want to cooperate, and Marcus had a feeling he wouldn't. The young guys always felt like they had something to prove. The first to tell you to 'go to hell' or 'pound sand', coincidently, they were also the first ones to break.

Marcus upturned a barrel, and started breaking the old planks of wood lying around. The Gunner obviously heard the commotion, and his blind fold got the better of him. Marcus hadn't said a word yet, but the Gunner fell over in his chair freaking out, trying to wiggle his way out of the restraints. He had no such luck however, as Marcus spoke loudly enough for the Gunner to hear.

"You're not going anywhere my friend."

He stopped moving, and Marcus had finally completed all he was going to do with the wood. Placing it in the rusty metal barrel, along with some dead grass, and a little black powder from a gutted bullet, he struck a fire. The dead wood caught easy enough, and as it started to crackle and flare, Marcus turned the Gunner upright, undoing his gag and blindfold.

The two men stared into each other's eyes for a moment. One filled with years of experience, a calmness that said 'I've done this before', with a dash of boredom. The other, filled with fear and hate, flickered intensely, pondering the next move and how this ordeal was going to end. Marcus leaned in, less than a foot from the young mans face.

"What's your name, Son?"

"I'm not your son, and you..can go to hell."

There it was, 'go to hell'. Marcus sat back, easily and slowly, slouching a little in his chair.

"Alright..well, this is what's going to happen. I'm going to ask you some questions, and that can end one of two ways. You can answer me right off the bat, and I've got a set of clothes over there with your name on 'em. You can take them, and you can go wherever you please as long as it's out of the commonwealth."

"The other way is you're going to kill me, yeah?"

"No, no I won't kill you..the true master of interrogation finds creative ways of hurting someone, and keeping them alive."

"Real fucking scary." The Gunner growled.

"Alright son, if that's how you want to play it..I'll warn you though, I've been in your shoes, and I've been in my shoes before. So I know what I'm doing, and I've done this to men much tougher and braver than you when I didn't know what I was doing..funny thing is, I still got my answers."

The young Gunner only stared at Marcus, trying not to allow his fear to dominate his face. Marcus was telling the truth though, he had done this before, and he knew what a scared man looked like. He knew when he had already won.

"Alright son."

In a single fluid motion, Marcus pulled his knife from its sheath and cut the boy across his chest, about the width of a throat, and deep enough to send blood pouring over his barely grown out chest hairs. The young man groaned loudly, trying not to scream, his feet and arms shook violently for a few seconds before calming down. Marcus waited until he caught his breath, then smeared dirt into wound, clotting the blood and stinging the boys flesh.

"How many troops are in Quincy?"

The young man was silent, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. Marcus took a deep breath in, and once again cut the Gunner open, yielding the same response as before.

 **AN: Alright, so pretty short chapter. We see that the time it's taken Marcus to travel east and join the Minutemen has been enough for him to realize maybe he's not as energetic and hard charging as he once was. He complains about his back and inquired about a new post, even though he requested a combat one initially. We also see that he is no stranger to be brutal torture, and that years in the wastes has desensitized him in a way. Short, sweet, and to the point with this one. Leave a review, and as always, thanks for your time.**


	6. Chapter 6

The fire was at a quiet roar now, going as steady as Marcus. Most circumstances it would be calming, relaxing even. It was cold outside, somewhere around 0400, but the cold was desired now. Marcus washed his hands in dirty, bloody water, and then wiped them off on his camouflage blouse. He had stripped down to his under shirt, which he only wore during the night time, and only if he wasn't on a movement.

The young Gunner poured sweat, the fire crackling in the barrel next to him surely roasting his bloody, bruised, crying skin. A few hours had passed since they began the interrogation, and Marcus showed no sign of stopping. The Gunner had given into his urge to scream, so Marcus stuffed the gag back in his mouth, insisting that his boys needed their rest and he would disturb them.

Finally, he broke. As simple as it would have been in the first place to just answer the questions, he chose to take a beating before hand. Marcus was sure to remind him of this point, saying that the result in the end was the same.

"We all have to try, don't we?" Marcus asked him.

The young man, Austin, peered wearily through his right eye. The one that wasn't swollen shut.

"..what?"

"We all try not to break..but it happens..I broke once."

Marcus had to win him over now, he had to convince him that he had done the right thing by surrendering the information to him. He had hoped he would inquire, but he didn't. He only looked around and shifted his body to escape the barrel indiscriminate heat.

"Oh, let me move that for you."

Marcus moved the barrel away from Austin, giving him a small amount of relief. The numerous cuts all over his body, burns marks from Marcus's heated knife, and bruises on top of swollen lumps begged for relief.

"Now, if we could finalize some deta..". Marcus was interrupted by Captain Marions' voice.

"What the hell is going on here!?"

Marcus snapped to see his commanding officer, alongside him Sergeant Sputtle, perfectly still looking about the room at the various tools Marcus had used to force information from Austin. Subsequently, Marcus saluted before he answered.

"Sir, I'm obtaining information about the rest of the mercenary organization."

"Soldier, you took it upon yourself to take a prisoner without my knowledge, and torture him for information to gain an advantage over the enemy?"

"That's correct sir, I.."

"André..how much intel have you gotten?"

"I've gotten numbers, weapon systems, and some key personnel, als.."

"I presume those are clothes for him then?" Marion asked, pointing to the clean clothes Marcus had intended to give to Austin before he set him free.

"Yes sir."

Marion nodded, and without saying anything else, pulled his pistol. He calmly put it to the back of Austin's head, and pulled the trigger. Sputtle grimaced, Marcus only stared coldly at the fresh corpse still tied to his chair.

"Sir, I was about to let him go."

"That's Commonwealth justice for ya. We give them no quarter André...and as for you, don't ever do anything behind my back. You have to keep me, and every superior officer, in the loop."

"Sir, it was my full intention to share the information of what transpired with you, I just thought it was best to keep it quiet at first."

Marion nodded, holstering his pistol, "We're built on trust André."

"Sergeant Sputtle, dispose of this body before anyone wakes up, preferably south of here."

"Roger that sir."

"André, come here."

Marcus stepped immediately, following his commanding officer cautiously. He would never underestimate someone, and after what he had done to their prisoner, Marcus was ready for a fight if that's what it came to.

"I came to find you to inform you that your promotion was approved over the radio, and I could properly promote you. However, after inquiring about the intelligence position, you've gotten your wish. It seems the General and good Colonel were a few steps ahead of you. They're mustering a few select members from across our ranks to stand up the community, I gave you're name as a recommendation and it was also approved. That means the Colonel will be promoting you, congratulations."

Marion extended his hand. Marcus looked at it momentarily, before grasping it firmly.

"Thank you sir." Marcus replied.

"Good luck Lieutenant. You should collect your belongings, they'll be expecting you in Sanctuary before the days out."

XXXXXXXX

"Sir." Marcus saluted clean and crisply.

Colonel Thiel saluted back.

"Lieutenant, nice to meet you. Made quite a commotion over at COP Zimonja I heard?"

"That's the word sir."

"You excited for you're new assignment?" The Colonel asked with a contagious smile.

"I am sir." Marcus noted to himself how young and healthy the Colonel was.

"Good, we'll hold you're promotion ceremony later this evening. In that shack with the blue tarp over the top you'll find you're new colleagues. Tomorrow, we'll head for the Castle, your new appointed place of duty."

"Sounds good sir." A quick salute, and the Colonel was on his way into the main building where General Garvey was waiting for him.

Marcus did as the Colonel implied, and went to introduce himself to his new intelligence peers. Once inside though, he was surprised, the community was smaller than he expected. Three men sat before him, all getting chatting amongst themselves until they seen Marcus.

"Sir." Two of them snapped to, not one of them was an officer, and the other man remained in his seat. None of them were wearing uniforms. Marcus was enthused, not only could he wear regular clothes and carry non-issued equipment, but unless there were more coming, it looked like Lieutenant André was in charge.

Marcus saluted back, and they all relaxed back into their slouched positions.

"Afternoon sir." One of the men with a scraggly beard said.

"Afternoon gentlemen, I'm Lieutenant André. Just came from COP Zimonja."

"I'm Staff Sergeant Brewster sir, Provincial Forces." The man with the scraggly beard replied.

"Provincial?"

"Yes sir, irregulars who haven't had the chance for bootcamp. And may not go, we're an 'experimental force'. They don't want people to think they're taking everything forcibly. So the 1'st comes down and trains us on defense, offense, urban, green side, and patrolling. We don't study any fancy uniforms or uhhh..any shit like that sir."

"Interesting.." Marcus turned to the next man, of average height and weight for commonwealth men. He was dressed nice though, and he was the man that didn't salute. "And you?"

"Local enthusiast. Not a soldier, just someone who has eyes and ears in a good spot."

"Where's that?" Marcus inquired.

"Diamond City, I partner at a store there."

"Your name?" Marcus asked.

"Ah, it's Michael."

"Nice to meet you. What of you?"

"My name is Augustus Hackney." His voice was smooth, forced annunciation was apparent in his voice.

"Well gentlemen, it's great to make you're acquaintance. I would join you in civilian attire but, I haven't properly been promoted yet so.."

"No need to explain sir, we heard your situation, and...actually I was wondering, where did you learn to fight like that?" Augustus asked.

"Been around for a while, looks like you have too." Marcus pointed to the scars on the mans arms and legs.

"I've been around, sir. Where did you say you were from?"

"COP Zimonja."

"No, I mean originally."

Marcus thought on this for a split second. Hackney was very inquisitive, not many people asked that unless they already knew something, something that had not yet occurred to Marcus, and they were trying to dig out of him. Marcus decided to play his game.

"California."

Augustus nodded.

"Must be hot out there in the west huh?"

"Quite.." Marcus decided it was time to go explore Sanctuary, "Gentlemen if you'll excuse me."

Marcus made his way to the door, and as he opened it Augustus spoke easily to his his new officer.

"Domine post meridiem."

Marcus stopped cold, there were only a few people who knew Latin, and most of them he met tried to kill Marcus. He turned slowly, only to see Augustus saluting him.

 **AN: Alright, another one down. We see the general attitude torwards the enemy, even from more senior officers. Marcus is back doing what he loves, intelligence work. A small community right now, four members, including our protagonist, one of them with obvious ties to the legion. Old enemies now on the same side, what could go wrong, right? As always, reviews are encouraged, let me know what you guys think.**


	7. Chapter 7

The promotion was quick and easy. Only a few personnel were in attendance, including General Garvey who made mention after the fact that, 'You're building this from the ground up and it's a very important job. If you need anything, don't hesitate.'

It meant a good deal to Marcus to have that kind of support, and it also meant a great deal to him that the Colonel wanted to personally pin his bars on. Granted, not soon after he would take them off, and swap that uniform for civilian clothes, or whatever uniform he chose, but still.

Later that evening, the men all traveled with Colonel Thiel to the Castle. The entire way, the Colonel was briefing them and bringing them up to speed.

"Boys, I'm good, and the 1st is good. But we can't be everywhere and tell everyone, everything. We need you to be diligent."

He went on.

"André, Hackney, no more uniforms unless you're in garrison or part of a combat operation. Day to day will be civvies. If you are in a combat op, any infantry officer there, even if he's a lower rank than you, will be the OIC. Priority Information requirements goes to Quincy, remaining Gunner cells, and key personnel across the wasteland. Anyone of significant rank or standing with a unified group of people, anyone with influence, from the Brotherhood, Gunners, Railroad, or Institute will be targeted."

Marcus couldn't help but think to himself that this sounded a lot like war, but it wasn't. What it was, was good preparation in the Minutemen's part. Hackney seemed to be paying very close attention as well. Brewster and Ben seemed to be in and out, they were not the ones who would be reporting to the Colonel though.

"Influential figures like, Mayor McDonough will also have a file, and targeting data associated with it. Understand?"

"Yes sir." Of course they understood, especially Marcus and Augustus.

Not much longer and they were at the Castle. Marcus was excited to be stationed here, right next to the water, and watch recruits get thrashed by their instructors, it would be a good time.

Unfortunately for him though, the Castle was almost void of life. It looked like it was in the middle of being stripped bare.

"Sir, What's going on with the Castle?" Augustus asked.

"Well, it's supposed to be under wraps but, since you are intel..the Castle is being drawn down to only a firebase. We will supplement the artillery battery here in place of boot camp, and the garrison unit is in the process of moving to Vault 88. A operational branch of Minutemen arms will also stay here, only to store minimal supplies, and ship to local fire bases and COPs. They are obviously at your disposal, you've got a pretty good amount of funding for your size. Vault 88, that will be the new HQ."

"Very good, sir." Augustus responded.

"Sir, what exactly is our funding?" Marcus asked.

"Depending on tax income the people of the Commonwealth are volunteering to pay us, you will receive about twenty-seven thousand caps a month. It's about six percent of our budget." The Colonel replied.

"I give you the authority and autonomy of raising, and training provincial or insurgent forces for the development of better conditions of that free city state. I also give you the authority to eliminate any hostile leaders without adhering to ROE's as long as it's in the best interest of the people. Do not make me regret that. These need to be kept in secret, I don't want anyone thinking we're out there indiscriminately killing. Follow on letters of instruction will come by the end of the month."

"André, may I speak to you alone?"

"Of course sir."

The two stepped to the side and the Colonel spoke plainly.

"We're working on getting you a few more men, but for now you have to make due with limited staff. If you need a few operators to supplement your forces, don't hesitate."

"Of course sir. Thank you."

"For GODs sake André, if you take someone down that could reflect poorly on us, you better not let anyone find out it was you. I will court marshal you, and be forced to put you in the brig. I know it's dirty, but this type of warfare has to be conducted."

"I know sir. I'll do my best."

The Colonel nodded, "That's all I can ask...do me a favor, I want McDonough overthrown OR, last option, removed by us."

"Understood sir." Marcus nodded.

After a quick tour of what was expected to be their workspace, the Colonel took his leave. Marcus and Augustus were bunk mates, Brewster had his own bed, unless Michael needed a place to sleep.

XXXXXXXX

"Let's establish guidelines and priorities now." Marcus said to the men of his new team. They all sat at a table, with a map covered in clear tape to 'laminate it'.

Marcus had come to learn that Brewster, aside from being a trapper from Far Harbor, was one of the best trackers in the Commonwealth.

"Brewster, I'd like supply routes for Quincy identified and marked here on the map."

He had learned that Michael worked at the surplus store in Diamond City. Due to growing suspicions over the Institutes ability to commit espionage trough robotics, the owner had gotten rid of her Mr. Handy, Percy.

"Michael, I need you to keep us abreast on activities in Diamond City."

"Like what?"

"Anyone you don't recognize, rise and falls of income and currency values. Any influx of people, spending habits, literally anything helps. Try to identify patterns..once we identify patterns, we can identify discrepancies, and discrepancies leads to something possibly a little more nefarious and useful. And in the case you get lucky and just hear something by a loud mouth, that helps to."

Michael chuckled, and nodded.

Marcus looked at Augustus next, and before he spoke his smile faded, sighing as his words left.

"Augustus..you and I will also focus on Quincy, except we will study maps, perform site surveys, key personnel, and coordinate targeting data with the artillery battery here."

"Yes sir." Augustus said eagerly. Marcus only stared at him, and then shifted his attention back to the others.

"Michael, you're welcome to come and go as you please. Brewster, get some rest and start prepping for your piece. At a minimum we will meet once a week, Friday's at 1700. Check?"

"Yes sir."

Michael and Brewster left, leaving Augustus and Marcus to themselves. Marcus did this, obviously, by design.

"Well sir, I'm looking forward to working with you." His voice, was shallow.

"Why are you here?" He asked.

"This is my new assignment sir."

"Don't play games with me." Marcus snapped back.

Augustus was quiet for a moment. Pursing his lips, he tapped fingers on the table.

"I assume the same reason you're here."

"I doubt it."

"I left after Caesar was assassinated, I believe it was operation 'Easy Day', looking for a new life. And to get away from the west."

"You think you can outrun your sins?"

"Do you think you can, sir?"

Marcus looked angry. He was angry, so angry he had to consciously force himself not to raise his voice.

"What you, and you're people, did was disgusting. It was brutally cruel."

"Were you, and yours, not also cruel? We fought for us, and our way of life. That's what happens when two imperialistic societies meet. They fight, one wins, and the other loses."

Marcus peered, almost through him. Perhaps he truly didn't hear what Augustus had said. He was listening, but truly hearing him past his anger and memories was difficult. He left.

Augustus was right. The operation that was designed to wipe out the Brotherhood chapter there, cripple the Legions leadership, and massacre the Great Khans was indeed named operation 'Easy Day'. Marcus remember it vividly.

XXXXXXXX

The next morning Marcus dressed in casual clothing, eager to start his new assignment. First stop, Minutemen Arms. Augustus accompanied him. Thankful for Colonel Thiel and local military bunkers, schematics for all sorts of weapons were available. Things Marcus had never seen before filled the binders, old world technologies. 'No wonder they ended up killing them selves.' He thought to himself.

In the end, Marcus decided on a SCAR-H for his primary weapon, with a variable 3-12 optic. He would retain his sequoia as his secondary. Augustus chose the H&K M27, automatic 5.56 weapon with 1 MOA, even though he didn't truly understand what that meant. The armorer summed it up with, 'Round to round average will be tighter than most weapons, minus human error.'

The order would be done by the end of the week, and until then Marcus and Augustus would be doing administrative profiling on people they had already collected data on.

"I think it's imperative we start with the small things, and build to large."

"I agree." Marcus replied, acknowledging for the first time Augustus's intelligence.

"So, who's a small soft target we can develop while we map out Quincy?"

Marcus nodded, and looked to Augustus who was sitting at his desk, pen to paper.

"Mayor McDonough." And so the profile was started.

 **AN: Alright, kind of a filler chapter. A set up for things to come. Let me know what you think, reviews welcome. Thanks!**


	8. Chapter 8

Two hours had gone by and the two men were still crawling on their stomachs. The sun was about to rise, and their management of time had been impeccable. Marcus and Augustus utilized micro-terrain for hours, crawling in and out of defilade, skull dragging their way to just outside of Quincy. Marcus was comfortable, without an obnoxiously heavy pack filled with things he didn't need. He brought only the bare essentials, which was often all he needed to accomplish the mission. He was so used to working with less than what he needed or wanted in the NCR, he didn't know what to do with all the support the Minutemen gave him. His SCAR, spotting scope, tricolor woodland utilities, chest rig with extra magazines, radio, compass, map, and sequoia was all he had. Basic load out for a basic observation post.

It was a rainy day in south Boston, and while he was wet, and the low pressure system made his joints ache a little, Marcus was right at home. The same could be said for his former enemy, Augustus. Neither of them spoke, unless a hostile patrol came within 500 meters.

They were in the Objective area now, hidden behind cover, Marcus and Augustus prepped the spotting scope. One would lay behind the berm they hid behind, the other would slowly crawl to the top, with a spotting scope covered in vegetation and observe the Gunners in Quincy. Even though Marcus was uncomfortable with Augustus behind him, he took first watch. The flow of information began immediately.

"Three tangos on the bridge, correction five."

Augustus wrote the information as fast as possible, and Marcus began sending him ranges.

"Wrecked bus, five twenty two.. Guns, guns, guns sign, five ninety seven."

He went on, and on, and on. Marcus finally closed the cap on his spotting scope, slowly and methodically scooted himself backwards to review the information they had covered. Much his surprise, Augustus had drawn a very impressive range card. Complete with target reference points, ranges, sectors, and off to the side in miscellaneous were possible infiltration points and associated grids.

'Damn.' Marcus thought to himself.

"We started finding these on patrols we would ambush back in the Mojave, they were intelligent so we started making them ourselves...both for us, and your stations."

"You red celled us?" Marcus asked, almost surprised.

"If by red celled, you we figuratively put our selves in your position and talked about what we would do, then yes."

Marcus was silent for a moment and looked back over the information they had collected. Finally speaking after a long pause.

"Yeah..thats what I mean."

Augustus nodded. Both of them realized the other was internally acknowledging the others skills and experience. Perhaps they didn't like it, or Marcus didn't at least, but they knew they could work well together and propel the Minutemen in the direction they wanted. The General may make the policies, the Colonel May enforce them and wreak havoc on the Minutemen's enemies, but the intel is where everything stemmed from.

The intel would inform the policy makers and operational groups of where to focus there energy. What was worth it, and what wasn't. Intel that was correct could save hundreds of live, and intel that was wrong could lead to a catastrophic massacre and genocide. Marcus had seen it before. At Bitter Springs where civilians were gunned down by the dozens. Cottonwood Cove where so many of his friends and statesmen perished due to faulty intel. The difference now, is Marcus could influence it.

He put the range card back inside the sheet protector they had brought with them. Initial observations were over, and now it was Augustus who would take the spotting scope, giving Marcus's eye a much needed break.

"Why don't you take it for now, we'll establish a pattern of life before we go back for the weekly sync."

"Roger that sir." August shimmied his way the few meters to the top, and uncapped the spotting scope. The Gunners had no idea what they were in for.

XXXXXXXX

"Alright gentlemen, let's hear the progress. Michael, we'll start with you." Marcus spoke plainly behind the closed door of their office.

"Right, well, aside from Myrna telling me everyone's a synth, I've started to establish currency baselines, not only in my store but in several others around as well. The cramped space makes it easy to overhear conversations. We've got approximately, 6,000 in weapons, 7,200 in ammunition, and 10,000 in food from last Friday to this one as of 8 this morning."

Brewster smiled, he had two missing teeth, and nudged Michael.

"How'd you get ol' Myrna to trust you anyway?"

Marcus raised his eyebrow, and Michaels face didn't change as he looked slowly to Brewster, still grinning like a child.

"That's none of your business."

Brewster laughed audibly, even Marcus and Augustus cracked a smile.

"Is that all you've got Michael?" Augustus asked. Marcus enjoyed him taking control of the meeting, getting it back on track.

"I've also started a watch on the Mayor, a quirky individual."

"Quirky how?" Marcus asked.

"I can't put my finger on it, and civil unrest is higher than I anticipated."

"Alright, identify those who are Mayoral sympathizers, those who are indifferent, and those who oppose him." Marcus ordered, jotting notes down on his scrap notebook.

"You certainly don't waste any time, do you?" Michael asked.

Marcus looked up. "What do you mean?"

"If you're going to stage a coup you might want to think of the repercussions. Who will be in control after McDonough is gone?"

"As far as I'm concerned, and policy states, they are free to choose their next leader as they see fit."

"What if it ends up for the worse, like Good Neighbor?" Michael rebutted.

"Michael, you're either with us or not. No one is keeping you here, but if you do stay and you do decide to work with us this IS what's happening. It's not our place to make the policy, we just influence and follow it." Augustus interrupted.

Michael nodded. Marcus looked to Augustus, nodding in appreciation.

"Thank you, Staff Sergeant. I don't think I could have put it better myself." Marcus jotted a note down.

"So, you good with that Michael?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Brewster, you're next."

The man grinned boyishly, and sat upright in his chair.

"Alright, So I've found a number of track lines leading in and out of Quincy. They're pretty heavy, looks like five to seven men."

"That's consistent with the numbers we have there if they are following a quarter manpower for patrols."

"The things is, the tracks are deep. Like 230 pounds deep, so they've got to be moving some serious weight, and I don't know what."

"Any ideas? Weapons and ammo?" Augustus asked.

"Couldn't rightfully say."

"How many track lines?" Marcus asked.

"Nine."

"How fresh?"

"Two of them were from this week."

"So I think the better question is, why and where are they moving these supplies to? Quincy is their central hub now, or what? And if so, where are their supplementary stations? Where are the other outposts? Brewster, can you handle that this week?"

"Sure can boss." The young man responded eagerly.

"If you need any support, we've been authorized to pull some operators from the First."

"Sounds good to me sir."

"Perfect, if anyone would like to review the data we've collected on Quincy here's a folder containing the information. It doesn't leave this office. Check?"

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Good, now gentlemen if you'll excuse us, Augustus and I have a meeting to attend."

XXXXXXXX

Hours later, Marcus and Augustus rendezvoused with Colonel Thiel, Captain MacCready, and several of the operators from the First.

"Gentlemen." Lieutenant André and Staff Sergeant Hackney saluted their superior officers, who were quickly acknowledged.

"When are our guests set to arrive, sir?"

The questions intended for the Colonel was answered by the Captain. While Marcus worked directly for Colonel Thiel, MacCready didn't like that a Lieutenant could just walk up and begin pestering his boss.

"They should be arriving in the next twenty minutes." MacCready said low, a bit of steam escaped his mouth in the dark night. The nights were starting to get colder.

"André, when they get here I expect them to arrive with a Knight Rhys, buzz cut, medium height and build. Do me a favor?"

"What's that sir?"

"Rattle him a bit for me, would you?"

"Why me sir?" Marcus asked in honest confusion.

"I heard about your prisoner in Zimonja." The Colonel cocking his head to one side, and an eye brow along with it.

Marcus nodded before he responded.

"Good to go sir, I'll shake him for you."

The vertibird was right on time. 'If they aren't anything else, they're punctual.' Marcus thought.

"Proctor Ingram, Paladin Danse, welcome. Should we step inside?" Colonel Thiel asked.

"Of course, I'm assuming just us?"

"That's correct Paladin." The Colonel smiled at a man without power armor. He had a buzz cut, average build, this was him. Marcus approached him immediately.

"I'm Lieutenant André, nice to meet you." He extended his hand for a welcoming shake.

Rhys looked upon it for a moment before taking it firmly and giving a less than enthusiastic hand shake.

"I'm Knight Rhys." He said proudly.

Marcus raised his eyebrows in false surprise.

"Oh, a Knight? Forgive me for asking, this might be a silly question, but where is your power armor? I thought Knights rated a full suit?"

Rhys face twisted a little with annoyance.

"We do, and I own one. It's under repairs at the moment. We don't just have an unlimited supply of suits at our disposal you hick, we're on expeditionary operation and we get into a lot of gun fights."

"Ooohhh, that makes sense. Seeing a lot of action out there then are ya?"

Augustus was listening to the conversation closely from what Marcus could tell, and was probably doing the same thing he was, making mental notes along the way.

Rhys quickly became agitated with Marcus's questions, and in his pseudo superior whit, experience, and maturity began insulting Marcus. Nothing to aggressive, mostly 'hick' here and 'backwater local' there, insinuating he was dominant over Marcus for some reason that didn't exist anywhere except Rhys' own mind.

Marcus finally fell silent, it had been ten to fifteen minutes since the meeting had started. Knowing the Colonel, Marcus figured he would be getting a little anxious to wrap things up at this point.

The operators from the first and the few guards that the Brotherhood had brought along stood facing each other except for one man each side that faced outboard for any outside threats. After a couple of minutes of silence, Marcus thought it best to rattle Rhys cage now.

"Knight Rhys?" Marcus asked subtly.

"What is it?"

"Have you ever seen what happens when a projectile goes through the eye visors on your helmets?"

"What did you say to me?" He asked immediately. His arms dropped from a crossed position to his sides.

Marcus kept his right hand on his sequoia, and his left on the hand guard of his SCAR.

"Well I have." Marcus was looking to where the meeting was being held, but when he spoke his head turned back and forth from Rhys.

"See, a common misconception is that they're perfectly bulletproof. Which I think we both know nothing really is."

If the sun had been out, Marcus was sure he could see the red in the Knights face.

"See, a 7.62x51 armor piercing round, or a hollow point, and anything above will penetrate it the eyes visor quite easily."

Silence settled between the two for a moment, and everyone who had previously been fidgeting around had stopped. All were listening to Marcus now.

"The really fucked up part, is when you pull the helmet off. See when the young goes in it's pretty unlikely, based on the shape of the helmet and all that, that the projectile will exit. So all that force and momentum just gets bounced around inside the helmet, unless it travels south or finds the exit. IF it doesn't though, it's...well it's just a mess, I mean IT looks like a scrambled deathclaw egg...ya know? Except all pink and mushy with little pieces of hair and stuff in there, it's just gross."

Marcus could have swore he heard someone in the crowd swallow, or gag. Even Augustus seemed to cease breathing. Rhys fists were clenched now, but his stance had changed from aggressive to almost passive.

"So, long story short, you'd better pray to whatever you believe in that our bosses can arrange a deal and come to terms."

The door of the meeting point opened, and Colonel Thiel, followed by the term flowed out.

"Otherwise, my 7.62 weapon system and I, are really looking forward to you getting your power armor back."

"Minutemen, lets move." Colonel Thiel barked.

"Have a good day, Knight." With that, marcus turned and walked away, joining his superiors.

"André."

"Yes sir?"

"I think I've got an official name for you."

"What's that sir?"

"Special Activities Group."

 **AN: Pumped this one out pretty quick. Marcus and Augustus are working pretty well together. We're seeing some developments with the Gunners, and talks with the Brotherhood continues. And now we've got an official name! Leave a review, thanks for the read!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey! So, it's been a while since we've had an update, I know. So I wanted to let you know what was going on, and bring anyone who cares that much out of the dark. We just had some leadership change at work, so things are getting shuffled all around. Also, about the same time that happened I started taking a couple classes, life happened, as it does to us all. Good news? We will have an update. Bad news? May not be for a while. Take care!**


	10. Chapter 10

The wind blew unrelenting, beating the wooden doors of the Castle back and forth. The chilly air crept in, but Marcus didn't mind. He sat still in the steaming water of his bath, relaxing and taking the time to clean himself for the first time in a week or so. The only thing that moved was his left arm, like a hinge it took his cigar in and out from under his old Ranger hat.

Things had been generally quiet throughout the territory, and municipalities. The Brotherhood had been keeping to themselves, the Gunners were cautiously rebuilding their strength in Quincy, and the super mutants and raiders were backing off faster than the Minutemen could build COP's.

A sudden barrage of footsteps on the wooden planks could be heard outside of his doors, over the wind. His sequoia, which sat on a stool, was wrapped up by his free hand, instinctively aiming it at the door. When the footsteps stopped, he spoke.

"Yes?"

"Sir, I have a report for you."

It was the radio operator, a young man, Private First Class Pope.

"Damn it Pope... Come in."

Marcus put his pistol down, simultaneously Pope stepped in. The young man coughed, choking from the cigar smoke that had been packed into wash room.

"Sir, it's urgent."

Pope held out the crumbled paper, with scribbles all over. Marcus took it, eyeing Pope from under the full brim hat.

"This is Murkwater," the paper read, "under heavy attack, many dead, burning."

"Jesus Pope, why did you waste the time to write this?!" Marcus shot out of his bath, drying as fast as possible. The now terrified PFC Pope, snapped to attention.

"Sir, for documentation and record keepings in accordance with the new laws."

The Minutemen had been experimenting with becoming a government of sorts for the Commonwealth. Marcus, experiencing this already in the West, was not enthralled. He knew bureaucrats would have their hands all over it, and more 'records management' initiatives would come down among other things. Hopefully, the Colonel would mitigate most of it, his words carrying heavy weight in all meetings.

"To hell with the records management, wake Augustus, and call QRF in Somerville, now! GO SON!"

Pope rushed out of the room, carrying out Lieutenant André's orders. Marcus dressed quickly, disregarding any camouflage. There was no need to be covert, as a matter of fact, he wanted to be overt. He wanted whoever this enemy was to know that the Minutemen came in all colors, shapes, and sizes; not just the camouflage utilities.

XXXXXXXX

The morning sun broke over the horizon as Marcus, Augustus, and six Minutemen locally garrisoned at Somerville, approached Murkwater. They took their time. There was no gun fire, sounds of battle, yelling, crying, or active cracking fires. Only an overcast of smoke from fires that had burned all night. Marcus couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of melancholy, and think that the lack of noise was sometimes the worst sound in war.

"Scared of getting your feet wet, sir?" One of the Minutemen NCO's asked jokingly.

"No..just know when not to get them wet Corporal." They were all a little nervous, and humor eased them a little.

"Smell an ambush sir?" Another asked.

Marcus looked to Augustus, who glanced at him quickly while readjusting his rifle butt into the pocket of his shoulder. Marcus looked back.

"No..just seared flesh." It was a sickening sweet smell.

In the streets of the small settlement, laser burned bodies and smoldering piles of ash that were former homes, littered the landscape. The crops were burned, the supplies were destroyed, and the weapons all broken in a pile.

All of the men were silent. Even Marcus, who was completely still in the middle of the street while the other men investigated, had nothing to say. He stared at two bodies inside one of the homes. He could not determine gender, only that one was an adult and one a child. Their bodies fused together from the intense flames that had engulfed their home. His stomach turned, and just before he thought he was going to vomit, Augustus spoke from behind him.

"Sir..."

He shut his eyes, and upon reopening them he could not look at this grisly sight again.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" Marcus turned to him.

"You think the Brotherhood did this? They're the only ones with this much laser power that I know of."

"I don't know..I don't know." His voice trailed off at the last moment.

A sudden snap jumped through the silent creeping smoke, faint footsteps followed. Marcus drew his pistol, turning back around and facing south. Augustus raised his rifle, as well as taking a more advantageous position to the right of Marcus.

A voice broke through. "WOOOOAH, no trouble here." A series of bodies came into view; three, no..four emerged from the smoke as Marcus still aimed true. "Just saw the smoke, thought we would make sure everything's alright."

The figure had his arms raised out to the sides.

"Who are you?" Marcus asked sternly, a rage burning inside him, wanting to punish whoever was responsible for Murkwater.

"Name's Sidney, we're bounty hunters here on work."

As they came closer, Marcus could see them clearer. His eyes burned from the smoke, subsequently watering.

Their rifles, AR platforms, were all slung on their backs. Two of them carried sizable ruck sacks.

Marcus lowered his sequoia, holstering it, his SCAR was slung as well. Sidney's arms dropped.

"What business does a bounty hunter have in the Commonwealth?" Marcus asked.

"Finally made it huh? We've never been this far north." The man replied.

Marcus remained silent, waiting for an answer to his question.

Sidney smiled through his sandy blonde beard.

"We were hired by an old man, Eulogy Jones, to track down a girl up here."

Marcus turned to Augustus again, and back.

"Well that's a creepy concept..an old man looking for a young woman."

Sidney laughed a little, before looking around and his smile fading.

"Well Mr., he's paying good money."

"Did this girl break some sort of law where you come from?"

"You could say that, yeah."

"Where are you from again?"

"The Capital." A short pause ensued as Marcus thought the statement over.

"Well..you're in Minutemen territory, if she's a citizen here she's protected under our laws. I suggest you stop at any nearby settlement, they should have a draft of laws."

"Laws? Minutemen? Heh...we've heard of you guys. A lot of tales about y'all down south."

"Mmm..well, I suggest whatever the business is, don't make it the Minutemen's business."

Sidney looked around again, "This is Minutemen business?"

Marcus shot a quick glance. Sidney put his hands back up, and nodded.

"Alright, we'll be moving on gentlemen. You all have a good day."

The four men set on their way North. Marcus and the group started collecting bodies and digging graves.

XXXXXXXX

After spending the day burying the bodies of the Murkwater victims, Marcus had plenty of time to think over the situation. More questions arose than answers.

Who did this? Why? Where did they come from? There were no tracks suggesting that a heavy attack was launched there. Why did the message take so long to get to Marcus? Why wasn't Somerville alerted first? They all bothered Marcus to his core, and the more he thought about it, the more disturbed he became.

Now, they were in Somerville. Marcus had compiled his report, and would transmit to HQ from there before bedding down for the night.

The radio operator on the other end of the transmission seemed to take the news well. Which also bothered Marcus. Maybe he had gotten similar reports? He hoped that was not the case.

Marcus debriefed the Somerville Officer in charge to ensure patrolling efforts were picked up in case of similar attacks, and then made his way to where he would be sleeping. Augustus was there, telling a story to Minutemen garrisoned there. Marcus paused outside the door to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"Probably the most glorious victory we had against the NCR..yeah, I'd say so."

Marcus became instantly furious, opening the door as calmly as he could. Augustus looked at him, before becoming silent.

"Go on Staff Sergeant, tell us about your glorious victory." Marcus sat down on the bunk, facing the door, with his back to Augustus.

"Yes well, Nelson.."

Marcus cut him off by laughing.

"You call Nelson a victory?"

Augustus didn't ponder over it at all.

"Yes sir, a glorious one."

The Minutemen in there presence seemed a little uneasy. Subtly picking up on the aggression in the air.

"Go on then." Marcus said.

"Yes well, after Dead Sea took the eastern side, my men flooded the northern hills, over running the town." Augustus spoke, and Marcus truly listened.

"We had fought only a few hours with firearms, and all at once they just stopped shooting, so we ran in with our swords and spears and drove any who were able to walk out, taking some prisoner..you should have seen them run. The greatest standing army in the West, the oasis of California, driven out by swords and spears." Augustus looked at the Minutemen, who seemed interested in the tale.

Marcus took a deep breath in.

"I was in Nelson that day."

Augustus's faint smile disappeared.

"We retreated because we were out of ammunition." He said, staring through the wall.

XXXXXXXX

Around nine'o'clock in the morning, Marcus and Augustus had been walking for close to an hour. Until now, somber silence dominated them. Each one could feel the palpable tension in the air, and knew the other could as well. Both seemed to be paying attention to their surroundings. Marcus broke the silence.

"You still revel in the old times?" Marcus asked.

"That's a rhetorical question, I'm sure, sir." He said in a low voice.

"Yeah, I know the answer."

"You do the same, don't you?" Augustus asked.

Marcus never turned around, but the question did boggle his mind. Yes, he did relive his 'glory' days, and given the opportunity he would tell of his victories in battle as well. He wasn't sure why though. Not only why men, in general, gloated about atrocious acts of violence; but why he was so angry at Augustus for doing the same thing he would do.

The war between the NCR and the Legion was long over, barely a memory in the back of most troopers minds that were around. For those troopers that weren't around, it was just a history lesson.

He did though, he loved the idea of telling young Minutemen his stories of combat. Was it to teach them something? No, they got all they needed to know for their battles through first hand experience. Was it because they really cared? Again, no, they had their own war to fight. They didn't care about some old mans escapades. Maybe he felt he had something to prove. Metacognition was never Marcus's strong suit, and thus started to avoid the ideas all together. Letting his mind go elsewhere.

'Who razed Murkwater?' He thought to himself. The Brotherhood had the most powerful case built against them. Laser weaponry, no survivors, and the logistical elements destroyed. It's what he would do if he had all the intel he needed for a war of attrition. But if that's the case, why did they stop there? Why wasn't something of more strategic value hit, like the guns at the castle? Unless, the attack wasn't meant for strategic value alone but was intended as a message. A message of fear to undermine the Minutemen, and let the people of the Commonwealth know that they aren't as protected as it seemed.

It was time for Marcus to do devote more assets and research to the Institute.


	11. Chapter 11

"Get someone to compile a report of all known and suspected drug distributors in the territory. We need new revenue, and we can put out a purer product, and create jobs."

Marcus said sitting behind his desk, and looking through some papers on initial leads to the Institute.

"You're condoning drug use?" Augustus asked Marcus.

"No, but if they're going to do it anyway, we might as well make money."

"That's twisted, Marcus."

Marcus eyed him.

"That's a weird way to say 'Sir'. There are no current laws against it, and there may never be. Someone is going to make money off of this, and we need revenue."

Augustus was silent for a moment before saying, "What do you intend to do with it?"

"Several things." He said, still looking through his papers.

"Like what?"

Marcus sighed loudly.

"I intend to give money to people in Diamond City to 'persuade' them on the McDonough issue. I also intend to offer local markets and farms the surplus of money. Local markets selling weapons, I want manufacturing costs lower and sale prices heightened to start making money for the local economy. Selling to anyone outside Minutemen jurisdiction that is. And farms to use the money to create extra food for the Minutemen ranks, and caloric rich foods for the children and teens of the Commonwealth so we have better fed recruits."

"Shouldn't the General and the bureaucrats handle things like that in the form of policies?"

"I'm just doing what I wish someone, in my position, would have done back west...maybe then we wouldn't have had so much trouble with the Legion." His words were cold, intentionally.

"Seems good at face value." Augustus replied.

"That's the only value there is."

"Still seems a little twisted somehow..does the General know?"

"The General shouldn't be bothered with every little thing we do."

Augustus again became quiet. "Does the Colonel know?"

Marcus peered at him.

"No, same deal."

"I'll have Brewster compile a report."

"No, have someone else do it."

Augustus leaned back now, clearly frustrated.

"Who? We don't have anyone else."

"Pay a civilian." Marcus flipped through paperwork, jotting notes down.

"Civilians are unreliable, and you know it."

Marcus slammed the papers on his desk, breathing loudly.

"I'll do it myself." He stood, Augustus remained still and watched his commanding officer exit.

XXXXXXXX

Marcus walked briskly through the courtyard, donning his tan coat. As he ran his hand through his dark hair to place his hat, Pope came jogging up.

"Sir!"

"What is it, Pope?"

Marcus stopped, his rifle bouncing about from the lack of motion. He feared he would get another 'Murkwater' report.

"Sir, the First is going to be running a selection assessment here for recruits chosen as good candidates."

"And?" Marcus asked looking at him blankly.

"They told me to tell you Sir, also that Major Shaw and another R.O.(radio operator) would be coming here to accompany them for the time being."

"So, it's a boot camp?"

"Yes sir, of sorts, but not exactly because it's for highly qualified recruits."

"Pope, was is all this guff?"

"That's just what they told me, sir." The PFC said, standing with his arms behind his back.

"Fine, thank you." He said making his way, again to the exit.

XXXXXXXX

It wasn't often he found himself in Goodneighbor, but this time he couldn't help it. Even though Fred Allen wanted to babble on and on, Marcus cut straight to the point.

"What's your production rate?"

"I make anywhere from one to three batches a day, depending on how I feel that day man."

Marcus looked around the almost vacant hotel lobby.

"Alright, can you 'feel' like making four a day if you were given a little incentive?"

"Like what, man?"

Marcus found himself annoyed.

"Caps. I'll give you one and a quarter times market value for every GOOD batch you make. Notice I said good, let me be clear..don't half ass this, and I won't half ass your incentive. You produce for me, I'll have it sold as the best there is, and you'll make a killing. I'll send transporters weekly to pay and take."

"Uhhh, doesn't sound like a bad deal I guess."

"Good, I'll have someone here tomorrow with pay to pick up what you've made so far. And if it's good, our business will continue."

"Alright man, whatever you say."

As Marcus walked away he looked back, "Expect quality checks Fred."

The man nodded and Marcus exited the building, intent on leaving Goodneighbor as fast as possible. Something, however, caught his attention. Something one of the druggies outside said that Marcus barely overheard. "...girl...slavers..."

He stopped dead in his tracks, and executed an almost perfect in stride right face, bee lining it straight to the group.

"Excuse me, what did you say miss?"

The ghoul stood from her cardboard mat, cocking her hips to one side with her hand resting on her side.

"What did I say, Minuteman?"

"Please don't play with me, what did you say?"

"What's it worth to..."

Marcus knew where she was going, digging out ten caps to pay for information. Something he was already quite used to.

"Ten caps? That's it?" She asked, seemingly astounded that was all.

Marcus flipped back the skirt of his coat, revealing his sequoia, now with a firm hand on it.

"It's ten caps for you, or whatever you have on you plus ten caps to anyone else."

True fear filled her eyes, so much so that she stuttered a little when she spoke.

"F-f-four slavers came here earlier and took a girl. S-she was pretty new and d-didn't have any friends so n-n-no one tried to stop them."

"Which way did they go?"

"I-I don't know, all I heard was they said they'd s-s-stop at a Somerville before they left."

Marcus nodded, and gave the female ghoul five extra caps.

"Thank you." Marcus trotted away.

The drug business would have to wait; Marcus had to get to the Castle. He didn't want to take them on alone, and Augustus was the closest thing to a friend he had.

XXXXXXXX

"Augustus! Get your weapons!"

"Situation!?" Augustus shot up, grabbing his rifle.

"Sidney and his group were slavers, they kidnapped a girl from Goodneighbor, they're in Somerville, let's go!"

Marcus turned to leave, and Augustus paused.

"What are you doing?"

"Why don't you radio Somerville garrison?"

"I set Pope on it, but I gave the officer there a special order to patrol farther and more often. They may not even be there."

Marcus secretly cursed himself for that, even though it was right at the time, but it was very inconvenient right now.

He nodded and followed.

"Pope!?"

"No response, sir!" His young radio operator reported.

As they jogged together, Marcus had the overwhelming feeling his partner hesitated because he didn't think the cause was righteous. Marcus despised slavery, and battled it for years in the Mojave. Augustus, on the other hand, worked the other side. He enslaved, dozens of innocent people. Maybe Marcus was right when he said Augustus couldn't outrun his sin.

"You have a problem with this?"

"What? Killing?"

"Killing slavers...is this to righteous for you?"

"To righteous? This is my duty, sir. Whether it's to 'righteous', as you put it, is not my concern. Slavery is illegal here, and I'll uphold it." He responded, huffing.

It was a satisfactory enough for Marcus, even if he didn't believe it. Forty five exhausting minutes later, Somerville was in sight.

 **AN: Alright, so I'm predicting that we'll come to a close on this within the next 7-10 chapters. Hope everyone is enjoying the ride. As always, leave a review, good or bad! Thanks for the time.**


	12. Chapter 12

"I got your back." Augustus said low. The two men had slowed down to catch their breath.

"Don't shoot at them unless they shoot first."

"I wasn't planning on it," Augustus continued, "how are we doing this?"

"I've got a couple ideas." The pair walked onto the muddy trail.

Somerville didn't seem to notice the trouble brewing. Everyone just went about their daily routine. Clerks trying to sell to travelers, farmers tending their fragile plants, and citizens being going about their business. Seemed peaceful at first glance.

At second glance though, Marcus caught Sidney. He sat with his fellow slavers, and presumably the kidnapped girl.

When Marcus first encountered the group, the smoke in Murkwater had obscured his vision. So much so, he failed to recognize one of the slavers was a woman. He could tell, or at least thought he could, which one was which though.

One of the females was a little older, long red hair, and had a visible gun. The other, was a little younger, short dark hair, and no visible weapon. While the red head was smiling, eating, and actively participating in conversation, the other girl sat still and quiet. Marcus thought she looked scared. That had to be her.

"I got'em, half wall shack, end of the market." Marcus said.

"You think they'll give her up?"

"Doubt it..they never said what the bounty was, but's it gotta be a lot to come all the way up here."

"Four of them against us, and a hostage..and civilians. What's the plan?" Augustus asked.

Marcus flipped his SCAR off safe, and looked around.

"Stay with me."

Marcus pointed his SCAR directly upwards, and let a burst go screaming into the evening air. Everyone on the streets ducked, and ran for cover. Some of them even pulled their weapons in anticipation.

"Sidney!" Marcus shouted, and began walking forward through the empty street.

Augustus was behind him, and as they passed the cowering people, he reassured them they were Minutemen. Those who had weapons; Augustus pointed at them, instructing then to follow.

Sidney met the group of, now five, in the street.

"Well hello, Minutemen. What can I do for you?" The man asked.

"The girl."

Sidney's face twisted, undoubtedly on purpose.

"Alright, alright..Clara." He said twisting at his waist to glance back, his hands still holding his rifle close to his body.

"Come out here and meet these gentlemen."

Marcus thought this might be easier than expected.

He was wrong though, instead of the brunette standing, the red head did. Walking out just as cocky as Sidney. She stopped on line with Sidney, and smiled a crooked smile.

"Was it love at first sight Minuteman?" The man laughed at himself, looking back and forth at Clara. "If you wanted me to introduce the two of you, all you had to do was ask. No need to involve all these sweet souls in town, now was there?" He laughed again, and the two men still in the shack with Clara joined in.

Some of the people in the streets went inside, some stayed spectating in confusion. The men standing with Marcus and Augustus followed Augustus's example, getting on line for the classic standoff.

"You won't hand her over?" Marcus asked.

"Clara? She's free, she can do what she pleases."

"The girl you kidnapped for slavery, Sidney." Marcus pointed at the brunette, "her."

Sidney looked back at the girl.

"I don't even know who she is Minuteman. She's just a traveler that sat down to eat with us."

One of the slavers yelled from the shack. "She said she wants to stay with us!"

"You heard him, Minuteman." The man inched his rifle away from his body.

Marcus chuckled as he spoke, shaking his head, "Sum bitch."

He pulled his sequoia, the single shot rang out. They all knew it was coming, but the first one is always a surprise. Even more of a surprise that Marcus hit Clara first. Adrenaline and endorphins immediately dumped into Marcus system. Tachypsychia kicked in, and before Clara's body had time to completely fall to the ground, Marcus had dove behind cover. Before Sidney could find cover and fire back, Augustus was already behind cover as well.

The men still in the shack fired down the street, striking one of civilians that had joined to help. The man fell in, his agonizing scream rattled Marcus. The man grabbed at his saturated stomach, and just as Marcus stuck his hand out to grab him and pull him behind cover, the back of his head erupted in a pink mist. The man slumped, and bullets continued to be exchanged.

"They're moving up!" Augustus shouted to Marcus from the other side of the street.

Marcus exposed the top right half of his body, aiming down his SCAR, eyes over the sight. One thing Marcus enjoyed about extremely close range, he didn't have to look through his optic. He could just grab his rifle, point at what he was shooting at, and hit it all day long. This held true now as well, the slaver advancing down the street dropped. He wasn't dead, but he was down.

Unfortunately for Marcus, the slavers had also been in a gun fight or two. Sidney acquired Marcus quickly, spraying his position with 5.56. One struck home, taking a piece of shoulder Marcus would never get back. He concealed himself again, blood leaking through his coat. Marcus wiped his face, the mud covering it was beginning to irritate him. Most pieces just smeared into his beard, and would dry there in clumps in the coming minutes.

"Are you alright!?" Augustus shouted.

Marcus grabbed some mud, packing it into his wound, shouted back. "Good!" It wasn't a permanent fix, but with no gauze it was the best he could do to slow the bleeding.

"Sir!" Marcus heard from the edge of the town. He looked up, and the Minutemen Officer garrisoned there, was running toward him.

'Thank God.' Marcus thought.

More Minutemen advanced from the seemingly nowhere, getting behind cover with Augustus.

Lieutenant Miller slid up to Marcus.

"We heard gun fire, started walking this way, then heard the firefight and came running."

"I was really hoping you would, Mitchell." Marcus chuckled, "Where's the rest of your men?"

"The other side of the town, don't worry, this will be over in no time."

Sure enough, the cavalry had arrived.

"Commonwealth Minutemen! Cease fire! Drop your weapons!" One more shot came from the slavers position, and three short bursts were heard.

Marcus stuck his head out. It was over.

"Thanks Miller, you came in the nick of time." Marcus said.

Augustus stood, and then walked over to Marcus.

"The girl is running away." He said calmly.

"What?" Marcus shot up. In the hills to the west, she had made it at least two hundred meters outside the settlement. The chase ensued.

XXXXXXXX

After about ten minutes, Marcus grabbed the exhausted young girl. She squirmed and thrashed about, causing serious pain in Marcus's shoulder.

"Stop! Stop!" He shouted.

"No!" She shook her head.

She kicked frantically, and threw herself on the ground.

"I want to help you!"

"I don't need help from you!" She yelled.

"We're the Minutemen! We don't want to hurt you, we want to help.. we can keep you safe." As he sat on top of her, holding her arms pinned.

"We stuck our necks out for you..please, let us help. We can keep you safe."

Her quick breaths slowed. Her green eyes darted out to gaze on his shoulder wound. Something was off about her eyes, Marcus thought.

"Will you let me go?" She asked.

"Of course." Marcus did as she requested, and she scooted away, sitting up and drawing her knees in.

"You're really with the Minutemen?"

"Yes." He responded. Looking at her frightened face, she looked a lot like his wife.

"I didn't think you would have the time for me.."

"What? What does that mean?" The statement thoroughly stumped him.

"The only Minutemen I've been in contact with were on leave, or wounded from the fronts."

That was an odd observation, and it was one of the only times he heard it called the front. They were at war, weren't they?

"I didn't think you could be bothered with my problems." She said quietly.

Of course they could, the Minutemen were there for the people. At a moments notice, no less! Is this how people saw them? Is this what it had come to in such a short time?

"Well, we've got the time for you miss..."

Realizing introductions hadn't been made, she finished for him.

"Oakes."

"I'm First Lieutenant Marcus André, Miss Oakes..would you accompany me back to Somerville?"

"Yes.."

XXXXXXXX

The uniformed Minutemen were finishing moving the bodies to a graveyard outside of town.

"Sir! May I have a word?" Second Lieutenant Miller hollered at Marcus.

"Miss Oakes, why don't you sit down and rest for a moment, I'll wrap this up soon and we can leave."

She obliged, taking a seat on wooden steps in front of the market.

"What's up Mitchell?"

"Sir, we have a civilian down. I'm going to have to send a report in to the Colonel. What should I tell him the mission was?"

"I'll send it in, don't worry about it."

"I can't do that sir, Somerville is my jurisdiction."

Marcus understood.

"Say it was due to human trafficking, and potential slave trade."

This caught Miller off guard.

"I didn't think that happened?"

"I guess no one told D.C...find anything useful on them?" He asked.

"Some maps, general intelligence and a couple journals. I'll have to sort it out later."

"Alright Miller..I'm gonna take off and treat this shoulder, and get her settled." Marcus motioned towards Miss Oakes.

"Alright sir, be careful on the way back."

"For sure.."

XXXXXXXX

The moon stood lonely in the cloudy night sky. Not quite full, but bright enough to illuminate the clean white bandages on Marcus's bare, sweaty, torso.

He sat alone on the wall, staring out across the wasteland. He sipped an almost empty bottle of whiskey to dull the pain in his shoulder.

"Marcus." Augustus said from behind him.

He turned around, "Augustus...come have a seat." He patted the ground next to him.

He sat right next to him. Marcus handed the bottle over. Augustus took it.

"I don't drink." He said. Taking a swig from the bottle.

Marcus chuckled.

"How is Miss Oakes?" Augustus asked.

"She's okay I guess..scared out of her damn mind..don't know how long she's been runnin'. She's asleep now though."

"Good...can I ask you a question?" He handed the bottle back.

"Sure."

"Why did we go today?"

"To save Miss Oakes."

"No, why did WE go? There were so many other ways that could have been handled. There were at least three garrisonned units closer than we were..with more men..."

"What's your point?"

"Marcus..do you have a savior complex?"

Marcus pursed his lips.

"I reckon so..I reckon so."

He took another long drink of whiskey.

 **AN: Alright, to answer Paladin Bailey's question. I haven't given it much thought to write through BoS perspective for Blood and Steel. I would have to attain permission from Soviet and come up with a decent concept before I did, but honestly, if you guys want me to, I don't see why not. As always, good or bad, leave a review! Thanks for the read. And if you are interested in me doing that, just let me know!**


	13. Chapter 13

His pillow was damp from a cold sweat he developed in his sleep. The doctor had called him a 'stupid mutha fucka' for packing his shoulder with mud. It worked in the Mojave, because the sun killed all of the would be bacteria in the sand. It didn't work that way in the Commonwealth, and Marcus had developed a small infection because of it.

Gun shots rang like alarm clocks in his ear, pounding away at his already aching head. He opened his mouth to groan, and his chapped lips ripped in several places.

"Hello?" He managed to grumble out.

No answer came. He pulled himself upright, opening his eyes. The room was incredibly dark. The windows, which were previously brick before they were knocked out, had a dark bed sheet hung over them to block the sunlight. The noise of gun shots still made it through though.

One, and then another one. 'Two high powered rifles.' He thought. Which was odd for recruits, although he didn't know how the candidates that had been picked out for possible First selection were being handled.

Then he noticed a water bottle on the bed stand. He grabbed it manically and guzzled the whole thing, inducing a few coughs by the end.

He slowly got out of bed, and stumbled out of the room into the Castles long corridors.

'Bang...Bang' cried the guns again.

'I wish they'd shut up.' He thought as he found himself at his office. The door opened, finding Augustus sitting alone going through paperwork.

"Sir..good to see you. How are you feeling?" The staff non-commissioned officer asked.

Marcus sat down on the wooden chair, in nothing but his boxers.

"Been better..where's the girl?"

Augustus never looked up from his papers.

"She's been outside tending to some crops..helped clean up in here too. Hasn't stopped asking about you."

"What a sweetheart." The two laughed together.

"Marcus, I've got some good news and bad news." Augustus put his papers down.

"Go on.." He muttered reluctantly.

"Well..the Murkwater incident..Michael reported back that Diamond City support for McDonough has gone up. And Brewster reported back with solid information on the Gunners."

"Okay..what's the news on Quincy then?"

"They haven't been moving anything. They knew we were scouting them, and tried to deceive us on what was going on."

Marcus laughed, "Wonderful, I'll have to get Brewster a drink sometime."

"That's the other thing...Brewster is dead."

He was quiet now.

"What happened?"

"A patrol hit a super mutant stronghold at that old water processing plant..they found him inside half eaten."

"Jesus." Marcus put his head in his hands.

'Bang...Bang.'

Marcus stood, grabbing a pair of his camouflage trousers out of the locker. He had his bearing back for the most part now.

"What is going on out there?"

"Not sure, Ive been in here all day."

Marcus dressed, and Augustus went back to his papers.

The pure sunlight burned his eyes. He covered them with his hand, looking up to the wall. A group of people had gathered around what he was assuming were two people, one shot after the other.

Another figure walked up. At first, Marcus couldn't tell who it was, but then everyone shot up to attention. It must be the Colonel.

Marcus watched as Colonel Thiel walked down the line, and then stopped to talk to a young man. Within seconds the young man came sprinting down.

"What the fu.." Marcus said aloud, and then the young man ran by him.

"Goodmorning Sir!" The young man said, paying Marcus no more attention than that.

In the recruit staging area, he started putting his gear on quickly and efficiently

"What are you doing, son?" Marcus asked.

"Colonel Thiel has asked me to accompany him to kill a courser, sir."

'A courser?' Marcus thought to himself, 'Jesus..'

He ran back through, with all his mission essential gear and straight to the armory. When he reappeared, he had non issued weapons. A sniper rifle, and short assault rifle. Marcus couldn't tell make or model from where he was.

'A little First recruitment I guess.'

"Lieutenant André, a word." Colonel Thiel's voice bellowed from the courtyard.

"Of course sir." He stepped out to meet the Colonel half way.

"Where do we stand on Quincy?"

"Just finished up the recon sir, ready to start the planning phase."

"Marcus."

"Yes sir?"

"I'm taking a little trip with that young man..I want Quincy over with by the time I get back. You understand?"

"Yes sir, I do."

"I'm giving you the autonomy to draw from whoever you need, except the First. They'll be moving north. But, arty and whatever ammo they have, is at your disposal. Along with all the grunt companies. Marcus, I want this finished..you kill those bastards, and you take Quincy for the Minutemen, I don't want anyone to say 'Gunners' again except for reference to a history lesson."

"Understood Sir." With that, Colonel Thiel turned and walked away. The pressure was on. Marcus was told that he wouldn't be operating in this capacity, but odd circumstances always found a way of enveloping Marcus in totality. Forcing him to do things he wasn't billeted to do. Hell, it happened to everybody in war. Always doing something above their pay grade.

"Marcus." He heard a soft, happy voice from behind him. He turned, the vibrant young female gleamed as she approached.

"Miss Oakes, good to see you."

"It's good to see you as well! I think you should be resting though, let's get you back to bed."

"No ma'am, you know as well as I do that there is work to be done. Poor Augustus must be drowning in paperwork..I would like to ask you some questions though."

"In an official capacity?"

"Yes ma'am."

"..Okay." She said hesitantly.

XXXXXXXX

"Miss Oakes, first name?"

"Abbie."

"Abbie Oakes..," he jotted it down on paper, "Age?"

"That's impolite."

Marcus laughed and then looked at her, his eyebrows raised.

"Twenty-nine.." She lit a cigarette.

"Where were you born Miss Oakes?"

"The Capital, Rivet City."

"Tell me about that."

"Rivet City? Or my childhood?"

"Both, I'm building intel on the Capital."

"Alright, well..when I was a child, maybe around nine or ten, the Enclave was defeated by the Brotherhood."

"The Enclave?" He jotted down notes.

"Yes..they were..the last hope of order...they had created a virus for the water, and a vault wanderer had helped them put it in a massive purifier..anyway, it killed off a lot of the life in the Capital."

"And they were the last hope for order?"

"Well, yeah..they were structured. Good doctors, good strength..I remember the Brotherhood would leave their corpses behind after scavenging their power armors, even as dead men, they looked healthier than most of the wastelanders."

'This is gold.' He thought to himself, writing as fast as possible.

XXXXXXXX

"So that sounds good to you? Shaping fires from the castle and a sweep north and east through Quincy?"

"Yes sir, that seems like it'll yield the best possible results."

"How many rounds you think for shaping?"

"Between 80 and 120, provided the grunts move quick and don't get caught by any unforeseen heavy weapons they may have."

"That'll be it then..we can move on Quincy tomorrow night..it'll be over."

"It sure will sir..then it's on to the Institute."

The Institute. The boogeyman. They too would fall to the Minutemen.

"Alright, radio the grunts and get them moving. This needs to be done before the Colonels back."

"Yes sir," Augustus said, "sir, can I ask you something?"

"Sure Augustus, what's up?" His tone was light, and inquisitive.

"While you were down sir..I went through some of your stuff..."

Marcus cut him off.

"Why did you do that?" He had stopped moving entirely, eyeing Augustus carefully, his tone far more serious now.

"I was looking for information and notes on the Institute...I found you notebook."

Marcus nodded, "And?"

"Well, there were a lot of details and sketches in there that didn't really make any sense..defense and fire plan sketches, personnel numbers, logistics...why do you have those?"

"It doesn't make sense to you why an intelligence supervisor would know those details?"

"Shouldn't those details be left to the 'on site' commanding officer?" He inquired.

Marcus took a deep breath, and at this point had almost stopped breathing. "Augustus..don't ask questions you don't want the answers to. We have Quincy to focus on right now."

"After Quincy, we'll talk about this?"

"Sure." Marcus answered.

 **AN: Moving right along! As always, critiques and reviews welcome. Only way I'll know how to improve is if I know my shortcomings. Let me know what you guys think, and as always, thanks for the read!**


	14. Chapter 14

_Ranger Marcus Andre rubbed his burning eyes. The type of burning one experienced from being awake to long, staring at the same thing for hours. He had been at his computer terminal for what seemed like days. Writing after actions reports, requisitioning logistical needs for his team, bouncing intel back and forth on the NCR's closed network, and trying to get over the recent loss of his team leader, long time friend, and mentor._

" _Marcus!" A voice from outside the Camp Golf's office door reached in. A voice he knew well._

" _What's up Wright?" He asked, never looking away from his computer._

" _We got 'em!" He said, coming into the office._

" _Got who?" Genuinely interested, hoping this was a break. Hoping desperately something important had come through to end this war that seemed to have no end._

" _The Brotherhood, we caught one of them!"_

 _Wright placed a file down in front of Marcus, which he immediately began to skim through._

" _How?"_

" _Some grunt patrol was going through the 188 Trading Post and just happened to talk to her, I guess the patrol leader felt like something was off and wrapped her up."_

 _Marcus squinted, "That doesn't sound right...what did they do to make her talk?"_

 _Wright sighed, his green eyes rolled around the room. "They did some..pretty awful things to HER, Marcus. Before NCR officials arrived anyway."_

" _Jesus.." Marcus tossed the file down, and rubbed his face._

" _They getting burned for that?" He asked quickly._

" _No..no, Marcus you're missing the point. She led us to two other scouts, and they led us to the Brotherhoods stronghold. We got 'em. The end of that file is plans for the final attack..the attack on the Great Khans, the Brotherhood, and," Wright's voice became quieter, "the assassination of Caesar."_

" _The Courier is going to do it then?"_

" _Yes, he's agreed." Wright began to leave the room, patting Marcus on the shoulder._

" _You need to go grab some gas masks from the armory, for your team. Saddle up, you're leading the strike force that's going to assault the Brotherhoods bunker."_

 _Marcus nodded to himself as his long time friend left the room. Marcus was ready for this. He told his wife when the Mojave was stable, and no immediate threats were there, he would leave the Rangers. He promised her a farm, where they could live peacefully, and not be bothered by anymore of the NCR's. He looked forward to it, very much so._

 _XXXXXXXX_

 _The sun had not yet risen over the sandy hills they had perched on. The operation had an incredibly high turnover rate. Twelve to fourteen hours of planning for strike force leads, and 24 hours of rehearsals; then they were on the ground ready to assault. The NCR had caught a break, and they didn't want to lose this momentum. The higher ups were just as ready to end this war as everyone fighting._

 _Marcus waited patiently for L-Hour, a simultaneous attack time on three separate targets. His friend Wright was a team lead on the Great Khan assault, the courier was to handle Caesar, and Marcus was in charge of the Brotherhoods disposal. He was surprised he was chosen for the task, but there were no grunts on this assault. To many tight corners, to many things that could go wrong for the regular troops. This was definitely a job for the Rangers, and Marcus's team was the most combat decorated and experienced. With Krieger gone, that left Marcus as a clear choice, best he could figure._

" _Time on Target, establish 0655. Minus ten mikes, hack." The combat operations center, a central position for all components of this attack, radioed through establishing L-Hour based on sunrise._

 _Marcus checked his watch, as always, it was right on time._

 _He peaked through his binoculars, and identified the door, and then, the air filtration system._

" _Looks clear." He mumbled to his current assistant team lead, Tanner, to get the boys moving._

 _A quick hand gesture from Tanner, and four rangers set on their way, closing the 100 meter gap. Next to Marcus, a machine gun section dug their guns into the most convenient shooting platform they could, aiming at the door._

 _The four man team that went down carried a large sheet of quarter inch steel, a metal pole for jamming the air filter fan, and four back packs. Three filled with toxic gas grenades, and one filled with pulse and fragmentation mines._

 _The plan was simple; cover the ground with mines, jam the air filter and toss as many cans down the shaft as possible. Cover it with the metal sheet, and wrap it in plastic. Those who come out will encounter the mines and machine guns, those who stay will die from the gas; hopefully. Those who have gas masks, will die by the twenty Rangers who make entry on the structure. Marcus would lead them in._

 _They had no way of knowing if they brought enough gas, or if the Brotherhoods helmets filtered it. Higher wouldn't allow the Rangers to wait them out either, they wanted this problem solved, today._

 _Marcus intended on solving it._

 _Two of the Rangers returned._

" _Mines are in place."_

 _Marcus nodded, the other two stood trying to see Marcus through the thick sandstorm the Brotherhood used to mask themselves. They waited eagerly, all of them._

 _XXXXXXXX_

 _0655:_

 _One of Marcus' radios buzzed, "Hack, Easy Day, Easy Day, Easy Day." The operations brevity code to signal it's start._

 _Marcus waved his hand, and the metal pole went in. The fan jammed, gas cans tumbled down the shaft. It must have been a long way down, because no plume clouds came through._

 _The last can tumbled down, the metal sheet went over, and the plastic wrap secured tightly over vent. Now it was time to wait._

 _It was almost fifteen minutes before the doors opened, and two Brotherhood soldiers rushed out, weapons drawn. They would have secured the exit, only they stepped on the mines._

 _Only one was in full T51-B, the other was in reconnaissance armor. He was the lucky one, dying instantly from the shock wave; among other fatal injuries. The soldier in T51-B lost his right leg, when the mass of metal landed, the screams were audible._

" _Hit him." Marcus said._

 _The machine gunner fired a burst into the soldier. The rounds were armor piercing, but it took two more bursts to put the soldier down for good._

" _We'll give this ten minutes, anyone comes through that door you hit them. Assault!"_

 _The nineteen other members of the raid force stood._

" _Nine minutes, masks on. We're going in."_

 _XXXXXXXX_

 _0655:_

 _Ranger Wright sat still, strapped into the Vertibird which was flying in a holding pattern. The idea was to have the birds in the air, forcing a quick operation._

 _At 0654 and eleven seconds, the artillery battery fired their first volley. Compensating for time of flight and ensuring the first round impact would be at 0655._

 _The NCR had not bothered informing the Great Khans they would be coming after them. No civilians were evacuated, casualties were expected, and acceptable._

 _The artillery barrage began, and as expected the Khans began to scramble. Grunt platoons made their way up the center of Red Rock. Machine guns, rifleman, and flamethrowers were set there._

 _On both ridges of the canyon, snipers and machine guns fired preemptively._

 _The ten minute barrage ceased. Wright's flight in was quick, the sharpshooters on board immediately went to work prosecuting targets of opportunity._

 _On board each of the five vertibirds was a specially outfitted team of Rangers. The Team Leader, a sniper who would stay airborne, a Ranger with a service rifle and shotgun, a Ranger with a service rifle and grenade launcher, and a Ranger with a flamethrower._

 _On the ground, the Rangers wasted no time. There weren't many rounds coming at them, and those that did were mostly small arms to include pistols. A bullet from a handgun can kill just the same as one from a machine gun though. Bullets are indiscriminate, and so were the Rangers._

 _The men, women, and children; combatants and noncombatants that weren't obliterated by the artillery, pieced up by the grunts, or cut down by the snipers were now being mopped up by mostly grenades and flamethrowers._

 _Huts were hit with grenades to leave it wrecked and provide good airflow to ensure a quick burnout after they were torched by the flamethrowers._

 _Those who still had the will to fight were scorched the same; those who didn't were shot to ensure a painless passing._

 _The Rangers went from hut to hut, ensuring everything was completely destroyed. All fire had ceased, except a few flamethrowers that mopped up final targets._

 _Once the Rangers had rendezvoused with the grunts, Wright removed his riot helmet, and stared back at the smoking ruin of Red Rock Canyon. And the culture the NCR had finally been able to erase. He knew as well as everyone else that the NCR would paint it in a light that showed their own righteousness. What they did in Red Rock Canyon was noble and justified, but it wasn't. Everyone participating knew it, but did it really matter?_

 _XXXXXXXX_

 _Marcus was not the first one in the door, thankfully. The first man had been turned to ash by the laser turrets on the first level. The gas here was thick, and they could barely see; but with the doors now open some of the gas had begun to filter out._

 _The Rangers were moving slower than anticipated, and encountered little resistance to begin with. Marcus passed several bodies on the metal floors, Brotherhood soldiers who were caught off guard by the gas._

 _They weren't all dead though; some were still rummaging around in the bunker. The Rangers could hear them, just couldn't see them._

 _Room by room they searched, the gas eventually began to fade. The Rangers knew it still wouldn't be safe to breath, but at least they could see better. Unfortunately, so could the Brotherhood._

 _Firefights started to occur, little pockets about the bunker. They made entry into the scribes living quarters. This time, Marcus was the first through the door. A young scribe sitting against the wall jumped and started to run. Before he could, Marcus kicked him in the chest. He hit the wall, and as his hands went up, Marcus pulled his revolver._

 _The fear in the young mans eyes was obvious, he had no will to fight; only to survive. He probably would have made any deal with his GOD or devil. Marcus didn't give him the chance though. He fired a single shot, spraying the young mans brains all over the wall._

 _The firefights ceased, and the last of the Brotherhood bunker inhabitants were exterminated._

 _Information was already being scraped together, holotapes, books, and endless other Brotherhood information was being scavenged by the Rangers. Information that could prove vital for the NCRs future efforts. Eventually more scientists, and intelligence representatives would arrive to scrape it clean; but this would have to do for now._

 _Marcus stepped outside into the early morning sun. His adrenaline was coming down, and how truly exhausted he was started to register to him. He was weak, sore, and fatigued to the extreme. His stomach raged with hunger, and his mouth was unusually dry._

 _He removed his gas mask, allowing the 'fresh air' to fill his lungs. The sweet muscadine smell from the gas and the sulfur from indoors was overpowering though; still it felt good to have the mask off._

 _He overheard one of the junior Rangers speaking to another, "Hey look at this."_

 _Marcus looked, even though he was not being addressed._

" _One of the machine-gun rounds hit him in his little eye visor."_

 _Marcus walked over and looked with the rest of the Rangers that had gathered around. Indeed one of the armor piercing rounds had penetrated his visor._

 _Everyone stepped out of Marcus way as he got closer, hesitantly leaning down._

 _He put his hand on the helmet release, and paused before taking off. He followed through, and out of the bucket poured the 'scrambled deathclaw' egg mixture Marcus would describe to Knight Rhys._

 _The Rangers all grunted, and stepped back as the hair, brains, and bone settled and soaked into the sand. Marcus dropped the helmet, and stood, staring at it only momentarily._

 _Marcus bent over, and vomited._


	15. Chapter 15

"Is arty in place?" Marcus asked Augustus as they scurried about the office gathering final supplies for the attack on the Gunners.

"Yes, they're there." This was the third time Augustus had answered that question.

It was 0300, and everyone was a little scattered, especially Marcus.

"Bravo and Echo companies in place?"

"Echo is still moving to their assault position, but Bravo is in place, and Delta is in reserve."

"Good." Marcus replied simply.

"I still don't know why you decided to change the scheme of maneuver to attack in the direction of the sunrise."

"It's easier to maneuver on the west side." Marcus answered.

"Debatable, and speaking of debates..did you ever decide on the brevity code?" Augustus asked.

Marcus shot him a glance as he loaded his rifle, pulling the charging handle to the rear.

"Yeah, I did. Let's get this done."

XXXXXXXX

The sun was creeping over the Commonwealth skyline, Marcus got on the radio.

"Steel Rain, this is Romeo 6, pre-planned target Alpha Papa 2071, duration suppression 20 mikes, fire at my command."

The read back came through flawless. The Gunners had to know they were coming, just a matter of when. Maybe they had already given up, morally and spiritually even if they still physically fought.

"Everyone's in place?"

Augustus nodded.

Marcus checked his watch, and rubbed his hand in the dirt. Bringing the binoculars to his eyes, and pushing his talk button, Marcus unleashed the Hell the Minutemen had brought to the Gunners.

"Easy day, easy day, easy day. Fire target number Alpha Papa 2071, Fire for effect at start and end."

Artillery rained down on Quincy. Marcus opted for 120s instead of 155, to try and minimize damage to the cities structures. At the end of the day though, he just needed the Gunners dead.

Not much movement came from the impact zone, and Marcus was watching intensely. Only a few bodies ran through the streets for a moment when the bombardment began.

Marcus decided to cut it short.

"Bravo 6 , this is Romeo 6, have your boys start firing. I'm ceasing fire in three mikes. I say again three mikes and Steel Rain will be inactive. Echo 6, normal timelines apply, Bravo will still provide ideal five minutes of heavy suppression. Get your internal base of fire set now, and get ready to move. How copy?"

"Bravo 6 copies."

"Echo 6, copy all, IBOF occupying cold position now."

Marcus grabbed his other radio, "Steel rain, Romeo 6, in two mikes cease fire, I say again, in two mikes cease fire."

Marcus looked to his left, Augustus was in a deep conversation with the squad leaders and platoon sergeants, relaying information and essential updates. Marcus looked to his right, on the muddy hill a few yards away was a sniper team from the First.

They were assigned to liaison. A minute detail Colonel Thiel had left out when giving Marcus 'complete autonomy'. It meant that a there was at least a small amount of distrust.

Marcus understood, he was not a vetted infantry commander inside the ranks of the Minutemen.

The artillery stopped, and all they could hear now was the machine gun fire. Only a few seconds later, machine gun fire from the Gunners positions opened up.

And as Augustus predicted, the sun was obscuring their vision. Radio reports began to flood the channels.

"We've got two KIA, we can't see shit, the mg's are dug in deep!"

Augustus looked at Marcus, clearly angry, but still managing the radio traffic.

Marcus was doing his own radio juggling, going back and forth between Company commanders.

"They've got power armor units!"

"Hit them with 7.62." Marcus sent back over the radio.

"We have been, they're not going down."

Across the ditch, the sniper liaisons fired the .50 caliber anti-material rifle they had brought.

"That's one down!" The radio buzzed.

Marcus looked to the liaisons, the spotter was looking at him as well. Through his rough facial hair, he shot a quick smile, before returning to his spotting scope. Marcus doubted it was sincere.

The .50 continued to fire every few minutes.

"Romeo 6, this is Echo 6. We've got a third of our force wounded, we are combat ineffective! Requesting reserve force to relieve in place."

"Roger that Echo, we'll have Delta RIP with you. Delta do you copy?"

"Delta 6 copies, moving now."

"Delta, this is Echo, we've got two blocks remaining. We've got a cordon now, waiting on you."

The radio continued to jabber on, but Marcus knew it was over.

The liaisons stood up, breaking down their position.

The shooter walked over with the .50 tossed on his shoulders. His stride was full of the swagger that the First was known for.

"Brilliant tactic, going into the sun."

Marcus only stared at him. A First operator, enlisted or officer, wouldn't care what he had to say either way. Even if Marcus gave a good point, he was sure he would blow it off. Even worse, Marcus was an operator that belonged to another unit. At best, the sniper would go back and talk trash to his friends. Marcus didn't care.

"Anyway, we're gonna go collaborate with the company commander slated to hold that ground. The Colonel will be expecting an AAR."

"You don't have to tell me that, just do your jobs and I'll do mine." Marcus smiled at him.

The operator smiled, and the two began to trot away.

Augustus was standing now. The gun fire in the distance was dying out. Marcus stared blankly as the operators faded into the distance.

"Don't let it get to you." Augustus said quietly.

Marcus looked over his shoulder at Augustus, packing his gear behind him.

"All and all sir, I'd say it was a good attack. We succeeded."

Marcus nodded, looking back at Quincy. A light breeze came over the swampy lands between the Castle and Quincy. Marcus was unusually quiet.

"Sir."

He looked back at him once more.

"You did good, sir. Quincy is ours." Augustus turned to start walking back to the Castle.

Marcus watched him for a moment, and then he pulled his sequoia from its holster.

"Hey! Augustus."

Augustus turned, and as he did, Marcus pulled the trigger and a single shot rang out. Augustus collapsed to the ground, limp, dead.

Marcus scrunched his face, and extracted his spent case, throwing it out into the murky waters scattered about the surrounding area. Marcus put a new round into the revolver, and holstered it.

He raised his SCAR, pointing it northwest and began pulling the trigger sporadically. He hit his radios transmit, "Castle, Castle, this is Romeo 6, I am in contact, one KIA. Requesting recovery team to meet me ASAP, breaking contact now!"

Marcus pulled the trigger a few more times, and then grabbed Augustus by his collar and dragged him a few feet. He could not stand to look at his face.

After a few feet, Marcus picked his dead Staff Non-commissioned Officer up, throwing him on his shoulders. He began to trot back to the Castle.

XXXXXXXX

"Sir!" One of the Minutemen called to him.

Marcus was dripping with sweat, Augustus's body was bouncing freely, slightly gasping for breath.

"Here."

"André!" Mitchell's familiar voice called to Marcus.

"Mitch, good to see you."

Marcus handed the body over to the young Minuteman.

"What the hell happened Marcus?"

"We were...we were breaking down our OP and took fire, a lucky round caught him I guess. Probably some squirters from Quincy, I broke contact immediately."

"Jesus..I'm sorry Marcus."

Marcus stared at his dead friends body being carried inside the Castles walls, and nodded.

"Me too.."

XXXXXXXX

Marcus was staring at his terminal, only a piece of his after actions report was finished. He had been stuck at the same part four over two hours. The little green blinking underscore intimidated Marcus to some extent. He couldn't find the right words to write.

Instead, he stood, and made his way outside. Wounded Minutemen were sent North to receive better medical treatment. Marcus, however, had the privilege of spending the next few days amongst the dead. It seemed those are whom he spent most of his time around.

He searched bag after bag, from the courtyard to the walls. He finally found him, Augustus, on the eastern wall.

Marcus sat down, and looked out across the dark waters of the Boston and Hingham Harbors. He pulled the flask of whiskey he had been sipping all day and night from, and pulled from it once more.

He was quiet for quite some time, but he eventually spoke.

"We had a good run Augustus..we came a long way to look at this ocean together my friend..we fought in the sands of the Mojave for years..only to be reunited here."

He laughed in a drunken stupor at the irony, his own breath burned his nostrils. His laugh eventually died as his face twisted, eyes wincing. The noise of the waves were the only thing he could here. He unzipped the bag just a bit, and poured about a shots worth into the body bag, about where Augustus's mouth would be.

He zipped it up, and took a shot himself. Then, looking at the bag, began to cry silently, but deeply. He gasped for breath, and then between the shallow breaths he could draw he said, "I'm so sorry."

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay on the updates, but life, you know? I hope you guys are still enjoying this. As always, thanks for the read, comments good or bad are always welcome. Let me know what you guys think about the recent turn of events. Good, bad, confusing? Don't worry, it'll all play out and make sense.**


	16. Chapter 16

_2282:_

 _Marcus sat silently in a sturdy wooden chair. The dimly lit room was appreciated, even though he knew it was designed to intimidate him. Unfortunately for those who designed it, Marcus was not intimidated by bureaucrats. Nor was he intimidated by military officers who sat behind desks their entire career and ended up at the top, because they were never truly put in harms way._

" _Please state your name for the councils record."_

" _You know damn well what my name is." Marcus replied to Lieutenant General Bishop, one of the special councils board members._

" _State your name for the record, Ranger."_

 _Marcus licked his lips and sighed._

" _Ranger Marcus T. André."_

" _Thank you. Ranger André, you're being charged with unauthorized absence, how do you plead?"_

" _As I've already explained prior to this hearing, it was not unauthorized. I finished out my contract from start to finish. I even filed the proper retirement paperwork."_

 _Another board member spoke now, a younger man in a clean business suit._

" _Ranger, you filed that paper work and left before it was approved; even so, you claim to have finished your service but you were a year short. You seem to be forgetting your broken service."_

 _Marcus was beginning to become visibly upset, angry even, contradicting his usually calm facade that he, and the Rangers, were known for._

" _You call it broken service, and yet you know full well that I was in Legion captivity for that year."_

" _So you say." Another member added in. Out of the ten members of the council, 7 of them nodded or made and grunting noise in agreement._

" _I don't have to make claims, I have the scars from the torture they performed on me. They are all documented in my medical record, Gentlemen."_

" _Yes, and if that is so Mr. André, I wonder what Republic secrets you leaked to our enemies."_

 _Marcus inhaled deeply before speaking again, thinking back to his time in the legions torture rooms._

" _I have also already divulged what I leaked to them, most of it was false, an I paid for that."_

" _Who knows what else you had forgotten to tell us, a year is a long time."_

" _Is this what we came here to talk about?" Marcus inquired._

" _No, we're here to discuss why you went UA? And who your loyalties lie with."_

" _My loyalty? I've served honorably for two decades."_

" _Treason has been called into question, possible harboring of Legionnaire's after the battle of Hoover dam. Speaking of that, why were you not at that battle?"_

" _I was already gone, to retire with my wife and daughter. I had no way of knowing the battle was happening. And I've harbored no enemies of the Republic, that is a just a lie."_

" _We have several witnesses that say otherwise." A man on the far right stated._

 _Marcus looked down and laughed, rubbing his eyes._

" _Why can't you just let me retire? What do you want from me?"_

 _The council fell quiet for a few moments, and then Lt. General Bishop spoke up._

" _We've has some time to scour through the Brotherhoods documents and communication logs. We have intel that there is another chapter, strongly dug in on the east coast. We're sending a task force of Rangers to do initial reconnaissance, identify routes, infiltrate if possible."_

" _And what? You want me to lead this op?" Marcus asked, almost in disbelief._

" _No, we wouldn't let someone with allegations of treason against them lead such a crucial operation. You will be a team member, you have served for sometime, and have very special skills. Subterfuge being one of the most favorable."_

" _And if I refuse?"_

 _One of the bureaucrats spoke now, "you will be denied retirement, you and your family will be prohibited from settling in NCR territory, and you will be on a no trade list for the Republic official dispensers."_

 _Marcus sat back, shaken to his core from the thought of his family not being taken care of. Being very careful, and successful, to hide his concern._

" _So I don't really have a choice? This is a conspiracy, you're forcing me to do this."_

" _If that's what you think, you can file a formal complaint with the NCR special council."_

 _He laughed out loud, very audibly and stood, turning to leave._

" _André, you can pick up mission details from Ranger Jared Tanner."_

 _He was already on his way out the door._

" _And Marcus!" The Lt. General yelled at him, causing Marcus to stop and look over his shoulder, "You will also be tasked specially to eliminate any former Legionnaires you find along the way. We can't risk someone knowing our capabilities and limitations and selling that to the Brotherhood, or anyone else, on the east coast."_

 _Marcus nodded, and shut the door._

XXXXXXXX

PRESENT DAY:

Several weeks had passed since Quincy had been taken. Marcus buried the friend he had killed, and had not visited Augustus's grave since.

Marcus was busy filling out paperwork to finalize asset allocation for south Boston. He had made several contacts that kept him covered with information. His entire original team was dead, and he had not yet identified replacements.

Fortunately the young girl he had helped, Abbie, had hung around the Castle and helped Marcus with menial tasks. No one seemed to mind, or even ask.

"Here, I'll take those Marcus."

She floated by and picked up a stack of folders, seemingly already knowing where they belonged.

"Thank you Abbie."

He never took his eyes off the papers. Abbie carefully filed them into his cabinet and looked at him, her short hair flipping from in front of her face to behind her shoulder. Just long enough to be held back.

"When do you think the Colonel will be back?"

"I'm nooot..sure Abbie." He sat upright, and looked back and forth on his desk.

"Pretty exciting, yeah?" She asked, closing the cabinet.

"What, that Paladin Danse is a synth and we're now holding him against the Brotherhoods wishes? I guess."

"How do you think it's going to go down?"

"The Brotherhood would be foolhardy to mess with the Minutemen at this point. I'm sure Colonel Thiel will have his way, as he usually does."

"Yeah, I think you're right...Marcus."

"Yes?" He looked at her, leaning on his desk, head in her heads.

"Why don't you get outside and get some sun? You've been cooped up in here since Quincy."

He looked back to his papers, "There's work to be done, sweetheart." She laughed, and went to the door of the office.

"Well, I'm gonna take a walk. I'll be back in a bit."

"Enjoy yourself, Abbie."

XXXXXXXX

The next few hours Marcus had done exactly what he said he would, work. Although, plenty of his paperwork was getting stuffed inside his pack.

Select documents he had picked out on the Brotherhood, Institute, Commonwealth in general, and the Minutemen.

As soon as he had tightened his packs pull-string, his office door swung open. Marcus pulled his sequoia and aimed at the figure standing there, Colonel Thiel.

"A bit jumpy, Marcus?"

He holstered his weapon.

"My apologies sir..I usually have a knock before entry."

Thiel chuckled a little and sat down.

"Sit down Lieutenant, lets have a chat."

Marcus did as the Colonel instructed, taking a seat in the chair at his desk.

"Marcus..," Nate shut the door as he spoke, "I've been seeing reports of increased drug trade...and I've only recently read your documents on your plan for it. Why didn't you run this by me?" The Colonel asked, his friendly manner disappearing quickly into the professional he was known to be.

"I didn't want to bother you with such insignificant details, sir."

"What makes you think I would have agreed to it?"

"Well sir, they are going to use chems anyway, we might as well profit off of it."

The Colonel shook his head in disagreement, "We will not sacrifice our moral integrity just to make a few caps André. This is unacceptable. It was this line of thinking that destroyed my world in the first place, and I will not tolerate it."

Marcus stiffened a little, the Colonel remained as relaxed as when he walked in.

"Understood, sir."

"Marcus, just know that when we have this business handled with Danse, there will be a formal investigation into this operation you launched, without my knowledge, and several others that I had to dig a little for." The Colonel stood, and so Marcus.

"I understand sir."

"If you'll excuse me, I have to have a word with Danse now. I just thought I would give you a heads up."

"Thank you, Colonel."

Nate left the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

Moments later, as Marcus was setting his gear down on his table and doing a daily clean up, a knock came to the cracked door.

"Enter." Marcus said.

"A word?" Marcus could not identify this voice clearly, but it did sound familiar. He could not say from where though. He looked to the young man standing there, a full beard, and an short custom SBR in his right hand, a Minuteman issued pistol in a leg holster. .45 caliber, only issued to the operators from the first.

"I think you have the wrong office son, the Grunt platoon commander is down the corridor."

"No, I'm here to see you, André." The young man shut the door.

Marcus stopped what he was doing, stood up straight and gazed upon him.

"Do I know you?"

"Only briefly, Jeremiah Koumal, most call me Jeremy. I ran past you just before I went on a mission with the Colonel."

"Oooh, right..I recognize you now, please have a seat."

The two men sat, Koumal laid his rifle flat on the floor. Marcus pointed at it, "You're a trained sniper then?"

"Yeah, spent some time in a hide."

"Yeah, I can't shake that habit either. Don't want to prop your rifle up and have it fall, compromises you faster then a neon sign." Marcus said.

Koumal nodded, "Listen...I've read your AAR on Quincy, and everyone else's, there are some inconsistencies."

"Like what?" Marcus asked, leaning back in his chair.

"You said you took fire from the northwest?"

"That's correct."

"The two First liaisons were just northwest of your position preparing to enter Quincy, they didn't report any squirters, or even hearing gun fire from that direction."

Marcus nodded.

"You also said, that it was a machine gun that shot at you as you were walking away..why was your Staff Sergeant, uh..."

Marcus answered for him, "Augustus."

"Right," Koumal responded, "Why was he facing the direction opposite of travel..why weren't you hit? Placement puts you in between him and the gun fire." His voice was neutral and low, but stern and demanding of respect.

Marcus raised his eyebrows, "What is this? What are you internal affairs?"

Koumal said nothing. Marcus pursed his lips.

"Do you have any idea what you're implying son? I'm an officer in the Minutemen and the director of a special division."

"In case you slept through the morals and ethics class at basic training, every Minuteman is responsible for his own actions, and accountable to and FOR his brother. I don't give a fuck if you're an officer, you could be the Colonels right hand man and we would be having this conversation." His tone had changed now, becoming more demanding. "I'm a Minuteman, and that means you're accountable to me. Now no one else may want to call you on it, but when I see bullshit, I look deeper, that's part of my job, to identify anomalies. And I'm telling you now, if you've done anything to disgrace our name, you will answer for it." Koumal had leaned in a little closer to him, trying to keep his voice down.

Marcus spoke, "You're basing all of this off of inconsistencies in report? It's combat, things get misremembered."

"Not by you," Koumal fired back, "I've read your other reports, clear as day with about 90 percent accuracy on everything including times."

Marcus just stared at him.

"One more thing, André...I seen his body..that wasn't a light machine gun round..it was bigger..like a .45-70..."

Koumal looked at Marcus's Ranger sequoia, and then back at Marcus.

"What does that shoot André?"

Marcus went for his pistol, and little to quickly for Koumal's liking. Koumal had drawn his .45 in a fraction of a second, and once it was chest level and Marcus had stopped moving, he turned it sideways and set it down on the desk slowly.

"Don't do it André, I'm a it quicker than you old man."

"And much more naive son, do you really think th..." Gun fire and loud commotion was heard outside. Neither of the men broke eye contact, but only a few seconds later Marcus's office door burst open.

Both men pointed their pistols at the Minuteman in the doorway, "The Colonels been shot by a sniper!"

Koumal rushed out of the door, forcibly moving the grunt out of the way. Marcus calmly walked out, noticing Koumal had collected his SBR. The grunt disappeared, going down the corridor alerting all the personnel in the Castle. Marcus looked at his bag, it was already packed, but instead he walked out into the courtyard.

As he stepped out he heard the former Paladin, Danse, finish shouting an order. Koumal yelled back, "I've got it." Then he disappeared into the armory before reappearing second later with .50 caliber anti-material rifle.

Marcus leaned against the wall, and watched as Danse issued more orders, a few explosions rocking the Castle. Koumal fired the .50.

"Snipers down, but there's at least two hundred older model synths heading for us. I think the sniper was a courser." Koumal reported.

Minutemen scrambled all around, following Danse's orders. Another Minuteman ran by with a sniper rifle, shortly after he and Koumal were firing one after another, dropping synths at a cyclic rate.

Marcus watched the mayhem unfold, and out of the corner of his eye seen Piper following a Lieutenant to Danse's position. Marcus then realized, he had no idea where Abbie was.

Forcing that away from his mind, he calmly walked back to his office, and put his body armor on. He loaded his SCAR, and returned outside to join the Castles defense.

 **AN: Alright, so one more chapter out there. Several things coming to light now, and the plot thickens. Ha. Koumal is hot on the trail of the spy in the Minutemen, and the Castle is under siege. Hope you're enjoying it, and I'll apologize upfront for any grammatical or punctuation errors. Doing these pretty quick in between other things. As always, leave a review! And as far as a continuation goes, I'd have to get with Soviet, and he and I would have to collaborate a little bit. So short answer is, I don't know. Thanks again!**


	17. Chapter 17

Three days had gone by since the Castle had come under siege. The platoon garrisoned at Castle had requested reinforcements, but they never received a response. Communications went down not long after the siege began.

Marcus, Danse, Koumal, and several other veterans took turns on the wall directing attacks, defense, and coordinating fires. Most of those who got on the artillery pieces to work the guns were shot down quickly. Their best asset, almost useless during a siege.

Colonel Thiel had undergone immediate emergency surgery, unfortunately the Castle was far from a trauma center, and medical supplies were in short. No one had foreseen a siege this large taking place, and initial intel after it started pointed to the idea that the Castle was not the only place hit.

More than one Minuteman had asked the question why the Brotherhood was not aiding them. Even though the former Paladin hadn't said it, it seemed to take him by surprise as well. Maybe he was worried they too had been hit.

Marcus and Jeremiah Koumal, an operator from the First, had exchanged several dirty looks with each other. Koumal knew however, that they could use every gun in the fight they could muster. Marcus knew, if he wanted to make it out alive at all, that he'd need to play it cool. The crimes that Koumal all but accused him of, treason and murder, were not taken lightly.

For now though, that had to be put on the back burner. A lull in combat had occurred, and the head shed of staff available pooled there intellects and experience together to try and beat the siege. A former office for the grunt platoon commander, had been reinforced several times over with sandbags. As well as the infirmary, and several other spots throughout the walls. Several locations were only contingent rooms in case the Castle walls failed in a section that was crucial to defense; alternate positions to fall back to.

The platoon commander, who's name Marcus never learned, was the last person they were waiting on. He walked in now, and punched the sandbag wall.

"Fuck!" He shouted, most likely having no other way of coping with the current situation. The boogeyman of the Commonwealth finally decided to show its face, and when it did, it sure was ugly.

"Calm down, soldier." Danse said coldly. It was an order that the commander could or would not oblige.

"We're fish in a barrel, Danse! I mean how many more of them do you think they have? Hundreds? Thousands? I've taken fifty percent casualties, and were running low on ammo if you hadn't noticed. The REPORTER, is carrying basically what's left of it to the ramparts now!"

"You mean we've taken fifty percent casualties, and yes we're all aware," Koumal slightly moved his arm that had been bandaged tightly to his chest insuating just how aware he was of the situation, "but that doesn't mean we need to lose our heads." Koumal stated.

"The calmer we remain, the longer we can hold out, and the better chance we have of coming out on top." Marcus tossed in.

"You think we're going to come out on top? Hahaha, you're as insane as you look, at this point we're just waiting to fuckin' DIE."

Danse had heard enough, delivering a solid blow to the mans stomach. Such a quick action caused the already loose and bloody bandage on his head to come slightly more unraveled.

"If you aren't willing to get with the program, then you are no use to us soldier! Get it together, or get out on the wall!"

The commander fell silent besides a few coughs, and nodded after catching his breath. As another explosion rocked the walls, causing the hanging light to swing back and forth over the table ominously, the commander made his apology.

"You're right, I'm sorry..I'm with you...what's the plan?" He asked, somehow sounding even more melancholy than he did just a few moments before.

"We don't know yet." Danse looked to Marcus.

"You've got some experience under your belt, what do you think?"

Marcus had his fingers inside his beard rubbing his lips, leaning his chair back on its hind legs.

"I think our best bet will be to use the artillery pieces we have.." Marcus suggested.

"Problem with that is, any men that get behind it are shot down." The commander said.

"Then we stop that from happening." Danse interjected.

"If we can get two or three layers of sandbags just chest high, they can operate for a few minutes anyway." Marcus said.

"Will a few minutes be enough to get the job done? And how are getting the sandbags up?" Danse asked.

"I think I've got a couple solutions." Koumal stated.

The rooms attention was on him now.

"We use the Willie Pete." He said flatly.

"Willie Pete?" Danse asked.

"It's our nickname for white phosphorous artillery rounds." Marcus added in.

"Right, Willie Pete burns at about five thousand degrees Fahrenheit. We use that, mixed with high explosive rounds in a final protective fires pattern. All the synths inside will have, at least, their circuitry fried." Koumal nodded.

"What about the sandbags?" The commander asked.

"Well pre-stage the sandbags at the last covered position of the walls, and then use common smoke grenades to mask movement and placement. Some on the wall, some on the synths avenues of approach." Koumal answered.

"And who's to say we trap a sufficient amount of synths inside for this to have the desired effect?" Danse asked, "What's going to stop them from retreating?"

"Machine guns.." Marcus said as he stared at the map on the table. Another explosion rocking the walls, and gun fire beginning to increase.

"Machine guns? Those positions are suicide boxes now, and basically destroyed." The commander stated.

Danse had an 'aha' moment.

"You plan to put machine guns behind the synths positions and trap them in a kill zone, firing back towards the Castle?"

"Exactly." Koumal said nodding.

Marcus tightened the handkerchief on his leg that he used to cover a nasty laser burn.

"I won't be able to take the machine gun team out though, on account of my arm, all I'll be good for is directing fires and I'm more than willing to do so. And Danse can't go, well need you here in case that team doesn't make it." Koumal added in after a short pause.

The platoon commander shook his head, and before he could say anything, Marcus spoke up.

"I'll take the machine gun team...we'll go over the back wall and circle around using that narrow land bridge while the smoke is pluming." He said confidently. If there was one thing he was good at, it was combat.

"How long will you need?" The field commissioned Captain Danse asked.

"Five to ten minutes, depending on resistance and or compromise."

"That's a long time." Another Lieutenant who hadn't spoke yet due to his tightly wrapped, and assumingely, broken jaw. He forced the words through his teeth, however painful it was.

"How long for the sand bags?" Danse asked.

"Five mike's at most." The grunt commander assured them.

"André, can you make that five at most?" Koumal asked.

"One way to find out." Marcus nodded.

It wasn't the perfect plan, but it was their best shot at this point. Danse, the acting field commander, signed off in a heartbeat. Knowing a perfect plan wasn't needed to win a fight.

"Let's get moving, Gentlemen."

XXXXXXXX

"Smokes up! Move, move, move!" Marcus said as low, but as aggressively as possible. Only four men could be spared for the machine gun team, two gunners, and two assistant gunners carrying ammo.

Marcus went in between them as they traversed the land bridge, dodging all contact they could. Looking through the smoke, flashes of blue synth lasers and red Minutemen tracers lit up the the Castles barely identifiable walls in a brilliant display of lights. Marcus couldn't make out any bodies, which was good, the smoke had done its job.

Marcus and the team circled around the back side, avoiding the small synth detachment on the land bridge, and set into their machine gun positions at the cities limit. The plan was to fire internal angles, making a wall of lead the synths could not escape.

Marcus gave the signal, hoping that Koumal, artillery men, and sandbags were in place. This was their shot.

"Fire!"

The 240-L 7.62 machine guns began to work simultaneously, mowing down the synths in their view. The firing cued Koumal, who began to direct fires into the killzone, completely saturating it with what he called 'shake and bake', a mixture of white phosphorus and high explosive shells.

The space in between Marcus and the Castle lit up in a brilliant blaze, and even through the smoke, he could see synth bodies dropping like flies.

"GRENADE!" The machine gunner on his left shouted. It was the last thing he would say, unfortunately for the machine gun team, it was to close to escape. Marcus himself, being in between positions, was peppered with fragmentation; taking tiny slivers of metal down the left side of his body.

He looked to see if the machine gunners were alive, though he was already moving knowing full well they were not. Thankfully, the machine guns buttstock was the only thing affected. The Minuteman's last act of heroism, was covering the gun so it would still be functional.

Marcus felt short remorse, and thanked the kid before removing his nameless body from the gun. Someone would collect his dog tags later.

After moving both bodies so he could have better maneuverability, Marcus started firing the 240 at the cyclic rate, allowing the other gun to take a break after picking up the slack.

"Their over the walls! Their over the walls!" The other machine gunners shouted at Marcus.

His fires quickly shifted to the walls, no telling how many had already made it inside. Given the choice of standing in the kill zone or going in, Marcus would have went in too. A plethora of lasers hit the other teams position, and after a moment the gun went silent. The shots came from the wall.

He picked that target off. Then he carefully selected more targets, at first. As time went on and ammo ran short though, he just started firing, and firing, and firing.

 **AN: So, if you haven't figured it out yet, Marcus is a spy from the NCR sent to the east coast to gather intelligence on that Brotherhood chapter there. Yeah, he's a turncoat, traitor, snake, etc. but he is also loyal to his family and is why he's chosen to do this. He also isn't incredibly cold hearted, or dumb, given the present situation of the Castles siege taking place. So we see my version of how the end of that battle played out, and in a couple chapters we'll be wrapping this story up. I beseech anyone willing to critique this as they see fit. I'll even take a 'you suck' if that's how you really feel. Haha. And as always, thanks for the read, I hope you've enjoyed it!**


	18. Chapter 18

0700:

Not long after the synths entered the Castle, a grenade knocked Koumal unconscious. Fortunately, all that came across him assumed he was was dead, so he was left alone, regaining consciousness in his own time. When he did, it was almost daylight, the fighting had ceased, and he had been moved far from where he blacked out; now laying against the wall outside the medical wing.

The night had been long for the Minutemen, but it seemed to be over now. The few that remained alive had fought tooth and nail, taking refuge in the medical wing. Bodies littered about the courtyard told the story of the collapsing defense, and the Minutemen's ferocious tenacity and fighting prowess. There were copious amounts of synth dead, compared to the Minutemen's few.

The exhausted Minutemen had sent two soldiers at a time to guard the gates in shifts, hoping for reinforcements soon. It didn't take very long for MacCready to lead three companies to relieve the weary men of the Castle.

The men on the wall were taking turns sleeping, the baking sun took an equal toll on there already deprived bodies. In the courtyard, Danse and Koumal sat in silence, taking turns sleeping themselves.

A shout from the ramparts caught their attention equally.

"Flash!"

A soldier peaked his head over the wall, "Gentlemen..relief is here."

"Thunder!" The faint call came from outside the gates.

"Open the gates, soldier!" Danse barked, he and Koumal supporting each other as the gates opened.

Koumal walked to the first medic he seen, "Oh thank GOD." He collapsed into the mans arms. "You have medics, that's good." He passed out just after those words.

XXXXXXXX

Koumal opened his eyes, power had been restored quickly to the Castle by the engineers that had accompanied the relief effort. He sat up quickly, disturbing the IV plugged in his good arm.

"Sir, you need to lie down! The IV.."

Koumal took the IV off the make shift stand, and shot out of bed, ignoring the medic. He stood to quickly, and became incredibly dizzy. He was not sure if it was from exhaustion or hunger; the medic caught him before he could hit the floor.

"Thanks." He said, tossing the IV bag on his shoulder and walking out.

The first thing he seen in the courtyard was make shift medical tents in between burned and destroyed buildings. A sad state of affairs, most of the cots were also made out of random materials. Koumal grabbed one of the medics by the shoulder.

"A bed just opened up inside, move one of them into a more comfortable spot." The medic nodded.

Koumal looked around, and identified where the bodies of the fallen were being collected. He made a bee line there, looking up and down for Marcus. His body was not among the dead.

"Hey!" Koumal shouted at soldier.

"Yes sir?"

"You've collected all the bodies?"

"Yes sir, hours ago." The young woman replied.

Koumal began looking around again, checking the tents and all inner medical rooms. Once he had exhausted himself of that, another idea occurred. He made his way to André's office. He kicked the door open, the room was in disarray.

A quick glance around and his inquiry was satisfied. André's ruck sack was gone.

Exiting the room in a hurry, he was caught off guard by Colonel Thiel.

"Jeremy."

"Oh, sir." He stiffened his back, placing the IV into the sling for his arm, and saluted his commanding officer.

The Colonel mustered his own salute, and after cutting it he spoke.

"So Koumal, was I right?"

"Yes sir..I believe you were, his body isn't here..and his pack is gone..sir, I'll go after him if.." Nate cut him off.

"Koumal..you're in no condition to do so, and no telling how far he's made it. I'll send word to our most western outpost of First company. Dispatch a few to track him down."

Koumal nodded, "Yes sir."

"Besides..we have bigger things to worry about right now."

"Understood sir, I'll begin helping where I can."

"You need rest. Recover now, so you can fight later." The Colonel turned on his heel and walked away. Koumal stood in silence, before making his way to help where he could in the courtyard.

XXXXXXXX

0330:

The firing had ceased. Not a murmur from inside or outside the Castle walls. All that could be heard was the slight crackles of fires still burning, and the waves of the ocean relentlessly beating the shore.

Marcus had opened the gates to the Castle to make entry, not like it was difficult. The Minutemen at the time were still holed up in the medical wing. Marcus could vaguely make out the bodies lying around the last ring of defense.

His sequoia was drawn, just in case. As he made his way through the carnage, he flipped the bodies that appeared human over, checking for survivors. Eventually, he came across Koumal. A brief thought entered his mind to put a bullet in his head, but it didn't feel right. Instead, Marcus drug his unconscious body just outside the medical wing.

He was lucky enough that everyone inside had been deafened by the battles intense noise, and for now, they weren't able to discern him moving around outside. A couple more bodies with faint pulses were moved next to Koumal's, and Marcus wasted no more time as he could see the beginning of mornings twilight.

In a minute he collected his pack, and shut the Castle gates from the inside. He then went over the wall. He knew exactly what would happen to him if he stayed. The Colonel would see to it that death would be a pleasant alternative to what would be done to him. He traveled west as fast as possible.

XXXXXXXX

0700:

Marcus approached the Minutemen outpost, holding his rifle and hands in the air.

"Flash!"

The challenge was issued, and Marcus didn't hesitate to return the pass.

"Thunder! My name is First Lieutenant Marcus André, I was at the Castle, I've been tasked with sensitive document relocation, I'm in need of supplies!"

A brief pause, "Come inside!"

Marcus's knees were swollen, his leg wound aching more than he thought it would. The fragmentation he had taken started throbbing halfway to the Egret Tours Marina, and a couple hours later it was even more painful.

He sat down, propping his leg up and wincing in pain.

"Where are you headed sir?" One of the Minutemen asked.

Marcus looked at him, and shook his head, sweat soaking his short hair dropped off.

"Classified, need to know only."

The Minutemen guards looked at each other.

"What supplies do you need, sir?"

"Water, please..a small amount of food, and any stimpacks and antibiotics you can spare." Marcus undid the handkerchief and looked at the raw flesh on his leg. One of the soldiers immediately began collecting the supplies.

"Whiskey?" The other handed him a bottle. Marcus poured some onto his leg, causing him to tense his entire body.

"You guys didn't get hit?" Marcus asked.

"We did, sir..but no where near as bad as major settlements. We only encountered a small patrol, we thought it was a chance contact on account of this being a fairly new outpost...then we began receiving traffic that everyone was getting hit...so how bad is it over at the Castle?" The Minuteman asked.

"It's pretty bad..any help you can send would be appreciated, although I don't know how bad anyone else got hit so thats up to your commander."

"He's dead, sir."

Marcus looked at him, licking his lips, still trying to catch his breath, "I'm sorry."

"I've got another question sir." The Minutemen who had gathered his supplies was now handing them over as he spoke.

"Shoot." Marcus replied.

"As my Sergeant said, this is a pretty new location..and we were told it was secret for now. How did you know about it?"

Marcus didn't miss a beat, "I'm on a need to know basis son. Thank you, gentlemen for the supplies. I gotta hit the trail now."

"Sir, you're in pretty bad shape? You don't want to stay a while, get your wounds looked at?"

"No, no..I've gotta get going." He managed to force out as he stood, throwing his newly loaded pack back on.

"You want one of us to accompany you sir?"

"Negative, do what you can for the settlements that were hit, and carry out your mission here soldier. Good luck to y'all."

And with that, Marcus was out the door.


	19. Chapter 19

Two weeks had passed since the Synth offensive. Koumal had healed, at least enough for him to fake proper range of motion in a medical exam. He had recently returned from a reconnaissance mission with Sergeant Major Jun Long to identify an infiltration point into the Institute.

He was extremely excited for the assault on the Institute, even though in the back of his mind, Marcus André's betrayal stuck there like a thorn.

He had spent hours preparing his gear for the assumingely tight corners of the Institute. Taking things on and off his flak, rearranging it a dozen times to make sure everything fit just right, and he wouldn't get snagged in any tight spaces. Flashlights on his helmet and .300 black out SBR, in case of power failure. Smoke grenades and flares for friendly and enemy marking, chalk to mark corridors and rooms already cleared, zip ties for the scientists, he had thought through it all. He was ready.

On his way to the mission briefing in Vault 88, he was stopped by one of Minutemen guards at the door.

"Sir, you aren't authorized at this briefing."

"What the hell do you mean I'm not authorized?" Koumal asked.

"The Colonel himself informed me that you are not to attend this meeting, instead you are to report to him in his office."

Confused, the young man quickly made his way to Nates office, knowing there must be a mistake. Of course he was going on this raid, why wouldn't he be? He was the one that identified the infiltration point after all.

He knocked on the Colonels door.

Nate's voice reached through the tightly sealed metal door, "Enter."

Koumal stepped inside, the door closing behind him. The room was neat, organized, and tidy; even though it was filled with mostly weapons and maps.

"Ah, Jeremiah. Sit down." The Colonel waved his hand to the chair in front of his desk, which he was also seated at.

Koumal sat, "Sir, I was told I wasn't allowed in the Institute briefing. That's a mistake, correct?"

The Colonel shook his head, "No."

"That would mean I'm not going on the Institute raid."

"That's because you're not, Koumal."

He was thoroughly confused, and before he could ask a question the colonel reached into his desks bottom drawer. When his hand returned into view, a small Manila folder came with it. The Colonel laid it down on the desk, and slid it across to Koumal.

"You'll be doing something else..take that to your quarters, read it, and destroy it, Koumal. Take as much time as you need, and let me know when it's done. Don't talk to anyone that doesn't need to know about that, understood?"

Koumal took the folder, and tucked it under his arm as he stood and saluted.

"Understood, sir."

The Colonel stood and saluted back, and Koumal exited the room.

XXXXXXXX

Two weeks had passed, and Marcus had traversed the land to the southwest of the Commonwealth, all the way to what was once Harrisburg, Pennsylvania; before the war. Marcus and the only other Ranger that survived the trek across the states to the east coast, established that as the most viable option to build a community just before reaching the coast.

The community would mostly be comprised of the NCR's expeditionary unit, scavengers and businessmen that follow that unit to make and sell goods, people looking to get away from the Mojave.

On the way down, he managed to find a working ham radio and plugged their preplanned frequency in. He didn't get the Ranger he was expecting however, a new radio operator answered. A sergeant from the 22nd Infantry Regiment; meaning that at least part of the expeditionary unit had arrived. They exchanged necessary information, and within days Marcus laid his eyes on one of the most comforting sights he had seen in a while, the NCR flag.

The two headed bear waved high in the wind, and settlement fortifications had already been completed. They must have been there for a while.

On the final approach he took note that the troopers on post had trimmed the mantle armor down, most likely to cut weight, only protecting the vital organs around center mass. New optics had been added to their standard service rifles, which meant that everyone else also got an equipment upgrade of some kind.

Inside the walls, the military encampment seemed like it was well established, but before he could take the full tour, a very familiar and friendly face greeted him.

"Marcus!" He gazed upon the man, his veteran ranger armor old enough it had been bleached by the sun.

"Jared, look at you!" Marcus wrapped him in a hug, placing his hand on the back of the mans head, rubbing his dirty blonde hair.

"It's so good to see you! You're part of the Ranger team here?" Marcus asked.

"Not only part of, I'm leading it."

"Leading? I thought that was reserved for Assistant Chief?"

"It is." Jared Tanner smiled through his thick, short beard, "Come with me my friend, we've got a lot to talk about."

XXXXXXXX

A hardy meal had been prepared by the cooks attached to the expeditionary unit, using local ingredients and fresh meat.

"Best I've had in weeks." Marcus said between bites.

"I bet!" Jared laughed, picking at his food as well. "So what were the savages in the Commonwealth like?"

Marcus shook his head, taking a quick drink of water. "Not savages..far from it, they're advanced. Three groups in particular: the Institute, the Brotherhood, and the Minutemen."

"The group you infiltrated?" The veteran asked.

"Yes, they're far more advanced than originally concluded, due to Colonel Thiel. A prewar military operator. I've got all the paper work and intel in my bag."

"Prewar?" His eyebrows raised.

"Yes, frozen in a vault. He has many allies, but those he's closest with are also annotated in the files, along with combat outposts, secret installations, man power accurate to a month ago, funding, the full deal."

"And the institute? What's that business?"

"Maybe nothing anymore, if Thiel had his way about it. My guess, they're wiped off the face of the planet now..but all the intel the Minutemen had on them is annotated."

Jared nodded, and smiled. "Marcus, it's pretty impressive. Seven years, 6 routes identified for military transport, 42 settlement identifications, and an undercover operation that gave us all we need to know. You did good."

"Yeah, well..it's incomplete, there are things we'll never know, as always. Any contact from Ranger Lopez?"

"Yeah, at least every three days..much more than we got from you. He's just scouting, undercover as a water caravan mercenary."

"Good, I'm glad he's alive."

"Yeah those tribals hit you guys pretty hard, huh?"

"It was a nightmare, Jared." Marcus pushed his plate away.

"I want you to know..we didn't hear from you in so long, a lot of people talked about you abandoning the mission. A lot of people thought you went native, but I had your back Marcus." The veteran said.

"Thanks, Jared. Means a lot." Marcus shook his hand. "Speaking of a lot, I figured there would be more here? Where is everyone? Where's my family?"

"The girls are fine Marcus, I check on them regularly.. and the main body is about four months behind us, caravans, rear guard, bureaucrats and high ranking public servants with an itch for adventure and conquest who will take the credit for this, that sort of thing."

"Yeah..how many men?" Marcus asked.

"Enough for a proxy, or guerrilla war at this point. But recruitment, or conscription, will begin upon the Generals arrival."

"I hope they're ready." Marcus said, leaning his chair back on its hind legs.

"You're final assessment?"

"I'm not sure about the Capital, but a war on two fronts is never smart. If we go for the Commonwealth, I'd advise against outright war with the Minutemen. I'm not too concerned about the Brotherhood though, they're stretched thin here as it is."

"Will the Minutemen concede to NCR rule?"

"Assuredly not, Jared..they're a free people with their own laws and way of life."

"So then it'll probably just end up in war, if I know our ambassadors."

Marcus shook his head, "It'll just be another war that our young men and women go and fight and die in..you'd think the NCR would have had enough of war at this point."

Jared let out a dark chuckle, "Well..Marcus, you know what they say about war."

"Yeah..we all know what they say about war." He concluded.

 **AN: Alright, well that concludes this story! Special thanks to Paladin Bailey for consistent reviews, reviews being the lifeblood of the drive to finish this. Haha. Thanks to everyone who read in, feel free to review, or pm me. Things you liked, didn't like, suggestions, things you'd like to see. I'll take it all. Ha. I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks again! Until next time.**


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